


Heathens

by Moonspider



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (Imagine Howl's Moving Castle Aesthetic), ASL, Additional Warnings in Notes, Alternate Universe - Mobtale Inspired, Bravery!, Child Abuse, F/M, Fluff and Feels, Gang Violence, Gangs, Gender Dysphoria, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, It's kinda sad, It's not..., Mute Frisk, No Smut, PTSD, Politics, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Sans Needs A Hug, Slow Burn, So Brittish, Sorry if it sounds like a different language, This was meant to be the happy one, Undertale Saves and Resets, Victorian Attitudes but Modern Setting(basically if the victorians had continued to today), unspecified shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2018-10-16 02:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 36,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10562238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonspider/pseuds/Moonspider
Summary: Viola has a good life. Not exactly the most interesting, but not the worst.Heh, that's what she thought, before her curiosity went too far, and she found herself in a world entirely unlike her own, full of magic, guns, and a skeleton.Bloody hell.





	1. Prologue: A Tough Kid

**Author's Note:**

> Time for something a little more cheery, yes?
> 
> Let's have a chance of pace. <3

Rain. It spilled out onto the street in torrents, shattering upon the ground in a cacophony of sound. Calming. The continuous drone of water on the pavement was a monotone flat note, though she couldn't identify it's key. Oh well. The glazed over eyes stared out of the alley into the street, glistening in the greyed light of the clouds, heavy with moisture. Perhaps if she sat still for long enough, no one would find her, but then again, who would care to look? No one with any self respect, it would be unseemly. They'd prefer to call out the dogs than assist a girl in need. The orange light in her chest remained constant, a flame without a flicker, roaring, but gentle. Let them come, she would not falter.


	2. Viola

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shopping? Shopping is okay I guess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this fic is more lighthearted, your comments on the direction of the story are extremely valid. I'd like to set some homework, if I may.  
> Your ideas are fabulous, as well as your criticism(constructive plz...).

It had always been the name. The first thing you hear people say to address you, of course you're going to ask questions. Why? What does it mean? Not the most interesting topic, but you'd be surprised how much a name can influence. Viola: quiet green eyes, evenly spaced, unassuming yet delicate and pronounced features, her ivory skin mottled with freckles. The curve of her nose was gentle, concave, ending at a slightly compressed point, and her mouth was small and cherry in colour; the lower lip being larger than the top, and the corners turning down to the floor, causing a truly genuine smile to light up, twisting effortlessly in both joy and contempt. Her hair was well kept, thick, dark chestnut with a curved fringe that spilled down her forehead, and swept behind her right ear. The main bulk was long and straight, falling about two inches past her shoulders. At 20 years of age, she was quite small, long fingered hands, skinny and unblemished arms, her entire appearance was vulnerable, but undeniably elegant. A basic ankle length dress dyed in blue, with cuffed sleeves and frilled edges, a ribbon tied tight to the skin around her neck.  
   
As was mentioned, it was the name that inspired her. The viola, a wooden instrument similar in looks to a violin, being slightly larger, and emitting a deeper sound. She had never learned to play one, but the sentiment had instead allowed her passion for music to develop, the piano being the main basis on which those dreams were formed. Her mother had many times voiced her approval of the skill, but in equal measure voiced her distaste at the girl's lack of motivation in anything else. Yes, to be sure, Viola had many a time heard the same line: "There is more to life that your wants. Responsibility is your duty." But she didn't care much for such things.  

Her mother, however, was the prime example of a lady. Lilliane, sturdy, straight-faced, a look of 'no nonsense' that demanded respect from even the most unruly of men in her presence. If her daughter was a viola, she was the violin, small in appearance, but powerful in sound; and perhaps in some cases, a little prone to shrieking. A headdress of ringlets framed her face, caught and tied in an up-do, delicate golden curls of absolute perfection, the envy of many friends, including Viola herself. She seldom laughed, but when she did it was resounding, heavy, but harmonious in tone.  
  
Currently, there was no such look about the woman, her arms folded in exasperation, and eyebrows raised. The object of her expression was justified, as once again, Viola was proving to be the _most_ difficult girl of the century. The two stood in a high end clothiers shop, Lilliane holding a garish and loudly coloured dress made of fine silk, with many furling layers and a fan to match. In the other hand she held a long evening wear dress, black in colour, with long sleeves, ruffled edges, and a silk sash laid horizontally across the middle, tied into a bow at the back. "Viola." Lilliane was using her 'strict motherly advice' voice, but it fell on deaf ears, as Viola gazed absently at the dresses before her, her head filled with nothing but the blank keys of a piano. "Viola! Make up your mind, we can't wait around forever." Her eyes snapped back into focus, and she let out a quiet sigh.  
"I mean, they're both lovely..." She knew she was only delaying the inevitable. They were currently shopping for a suitable dress for a social gathering, a formal party of sorts. It was important for her family, many figures of rank would be present. And even more importantly than that, most of those figures had young single men as sons. Viola didn't really have an opinion when it came to courtship, it wasn't as though she disliked it, she simply didn't know what to expect; the faffing around with outfits didn't make it much easier.  
  
Lilliane wanted the loud dress, the one that said "Hello, yes, I'm here for the taking!" But Viola was the type to wear something less shouty, the elegance of the black dress was nothing to sniff at. Oh my, why did it all have to be so difficult? She sighed again. "I...I'm sorry mother. Can I think on it?" She rolled her eyes.  
"You silly girl. Do you realise how important this is? You must look dignified!"  
"I know, mother, I do. It's just..." Okay, time to play the sympathy card. "This is all so new to me, I'm a little bewildered by it all. What if the uppers dislike me on my choice?" Lilliane's eyes slowly dropped, losing their violent spark. Thank goodness.  
"Oh very well. I'll take them both, and return one later. Come along my girl."  
   
Strolling briskly from the store, she made her way back down the high street, Viola meekly walking in tow. The sky was bright today, and the cobbles underfoot were pristine. This was the richer part of the city, and every building in sight was perfectly painted in the traditional gothic black, grey and wooden grain, not a hint of brick showing through. Carriages passed them as they walked, the stuttering engines clicking, and funnels belching white smoke into the air. The street itself was made of brick, perfectly flattened with cement, and displaying a patchwork pattern along the ground with the variation, a combination of reddish hues and cracked orange. Looking up from the floor, Viola allowed her eyes to wander, taking in the wide variety of shops lining the sidewalk. A general goods store, the window packed with shelves containing vegetables and meats in variety. A high end dress makers, fabrics and designs of all types hanging in rolls on the walls, and a selection of finely crafted gloves sitting in the window. A sweet shop: the window frames lovingly decorated with purple lace bunting, and a display of tiny yet sophisticated chocolates, stood out to her. She paused as she gazed through the pristine glass, her nose almost pressed against it. It looked very quaint inside, plain oak panelled walls, and boards on the floor. A thin lavender carpet had been laid out across the length of the parlour, and four circular tables had been placed inside, covered with the same style of lacy fabric. It was beautiful, the enticing smell permeating the air around the shop, and relaxing Viola's heart. She lost herself in the scene for a moment, before catching the eyes of Lilliane reflected through the glass, the sour look pulling her away. "Indulging ourselves are we? Where is your restraint girl?" She huffed, taking hold of Viola's hand and dragging her away, her elegance and dignity being spared no expense, even in such an act. Viola let her eyes roll to the sky, very much aware of the scolding she would receive for being 'childish.' Her mother gave her a steely glance, but knew she couldn't risk a full blown shouting match in the middle of the high street, that was below her. "Your father will not be pleased." She muttered simply, causing a rock to burrow into Viola's gut. Ah, but she knew exactly how to hit where it hurt.  
  
She stopped being difficult after that. It wasn't as though she could blame her mother for her position, all of her family was this way. Although being an only daughter weighed heavily, she didn't resent the role. So long as she could continue her music, she would be happy. The smoke became more constant as they continued forward, hovering over the train station at the edge of the city limits in a muggy cloud. Huffs of steam rose from the pipes lining the rails, and the trains rattled as they shot past, throwing billowing white clouds into the air, and causing Viola's hair to wrap tightly around her face. She struggled with it in a desperate attempt to make it behave, but that just wasn't happening, and as she stepped forward to follow Lilliane, she blundered close to the edge of the platform. Her hand was firmly clamped however, and she felt herself being led blindly onto the train with the blanket of brown covering her eyes. Lilliane tutted, but she could only repeat herself if she wanted to complain. Carefully correcting her hair, Viola glanced around the crowded carriage in the hopes of finding a spare seat, but there was none. As she looked, she caught eyes with a young man sitting across the way from her; he gave her a polite smile, and got to his feet, gesturing for her to sit. Her mother obliged, and the two sat pressed together in the space. "Manners these days. What is the world coming to? Addressing a lady without acknowledging her status, honestly." Viola nodded vaguely as Lilliane continued her chatter, but she wasn't really paying attention.  
  
She gazed up through the soot riddled glass at the scenery, the brass panelling reflecting the pale light outside. She seldom saw it, the Outplain. A vast stretch of land between each of the bordering towns and cities, empty country landscapes, crisis-crossed by rails, and ignored. Ebott City was a central hub in this land, a massive stretch of twisting streets and sectors of usage, such as: the dwellings sector, the shopping sector, and the manufacturing sector. Outside of this stretch, was a great wall; a solid grey structure reaching about five storeys into the sky, impossible to climb, with a massive set of doors that stood closed at all times. Trains were the only way to and from the city, and an ID pass was needed to even access them, as well as money. Beyond the city, were the slums, like a shadow crouching to the crest of a hill; the place for the poor, unable to make their way in the rich and prosperous lifestyle, a large span of grime and discomfort. She had never seen it herself, but it was a little sad, to think such a finely tuned system had such an obvious flaw. A complicated transaction indeed, the wall, the money, Viola often mused. _What is it that we need protecting from?_ She was about to receive one such answer for herself.  
  
There was a flicker of movement outside the carriage, and Viola squinted to view it properly, as the glass made it very difficult to see. The train was moving slowly, chugging through the slum's main dwelling; it couldn't gain speed until it pulled clear. There was a glimmer through the dust, and she started as a figure pushed their form up to the window. She couldn't see them too well, but they had strangely smooth features, and fiery red hair. After a moment, they moved off, seeming to clamber onto the roof of the carriage. Lilliane droned on beside her, seemingly oblivious of this appearance. Viola stared blankly, and was just about to start second guessing herself, when there was a shudder from above. The sound of shrieking metal and torn machinery echoed through the train, and it squealed on its tracks. Lilliane was alert in a second, clutching Viola's shoulder and pulling her close, her eyes darting about warily. The carriage went into uproar, a mishmash of terrified screams and concerned shouts, as people hurried down towards the front of the train, or huddled together for safety in their seats. What was going on? Viola gazed up at the ceiling, and saw a tiny chink was visible in the metal, a dent bending the sheets in on themselves. The train shook once again, rocking back and forth as it continued forward, and Viola's eyes grew wide as she saw something glimmering blue through the crack above her. It sizzled like some kind of electrical energy, and broke through the roof into the room, slamming into the floor; it looked like some kind of blade in the few seconds she saw it, a sharply defined edge, glowing a rich aqua. There was a horrific tearing sound, and she felt the sickening jolt, as the entire carriage was torn in half, shattering off the rails to the ground, and sending her flying. Lilliane's hand fumbled at her shoulder as she fell, but slipped away before she could reach for it. She let out a cry as she went, tumbling onto the hard ground and ripping her clothes on the rocks. A flash of light filled her eyes, as the entire train bust into flames, roaring into the sky. Viola slowly dragged herself to her knees, her head pounding in her ears, and her wounded ribs springing tears to her eyes. "Urk..." She winced, and pulled herself out of the dirt. A hand flew to her mouth as she looked upon the wreckage, a burning mess. "Mother!" She cried, stumbling forward towards it, but the elements were faster. There was another explosion as the fuel from the train ignited itself, forcing Viola back. She gasped, her lungs burning in the smoke, and her stomach dropping at the realisation that she couldn't do _anything_. Shaking her head, she gazed at her surroundings, and took a step. She didn't know anything about the slums, but, what choice did she really have? She needed help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My second published fanfiction, ain't that something? 
> 
> Obviously it won't be the generic everyday life of monsters. I honestly don't have the spark for realism, so expect some feels along the way. But, this is as much a treat for me as for you guys. So, I hope it works! :D
> 
> Depending on how I get on with it, this will either be the 'backburner' fic when I'm not getting on with the main one, or it will be the main one. We'll have to see. *Hands out lollipops*


	3. Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was I doing?

They found her. Of course they did. As soon as the weather cleared they were on her like flies on a corpse. The corpse analogy was a fitting one actually, for she was so thin and malnourished, her cheeks and eye sockets sagged like that of the dead. Her clothes were tattered and stained, simple shorts and a t-shirt, layered up with filth and soot, her skin much the same. The beautiful hair she once possessed had been crudely cut short, for the sake of convenience, and looked almost black from the grime; though she had gone so long without a shower, it had begun to clean itself instead.  
   
There was a group of four policemen stood before her in the alley, trimmed black suits, the gold buttons glinting in the quiet light; the boots glossy with shine, so much so that the girl saw her own ghostly eyes staring back through the surface. She wanted to scoff at them, seriously? Four grown men disposing of a single orphan girl? What did they take her for? Slowly, she was dragged to her feet, her arms falling limply as the cold leather-gloved hands gripped them. The light was still muggy as it filtered down through the darkened clouds, and she stared up towards it in a daze. The brisk walk of the policemen was too fast for her frail limbs to keep up with, so she simply let her bare feet drag across the bricks, scuffing them. She could barely feel any kind of pain, the twist in her stomach for food overrode it all, and she let out a tiny sigh. The whistle of air through her mouth was a high G#, and wailed slightly as it came through. Pathetic.  
   
The gate to the city stood tall before her, impenetrable, unless you knew where to look, as she did. There were two sets of smaller doors either side of the structure, and in a moment, the girl found herself violently thrown through one of them, the metal hinge slamming shut behind her. "And stay out, scum!" One of them shouted after her, his voice wavering on a high F#, the coward. The girl spat the dust from her mouth as she pushed down on the ground with her hands, lifting her head to stare into the empty streets. Although the city was beautiful, it was still fake, a fresh layer of paint covering up mould is still just paint, it flakes away eventually; no, the Ebott slums were real, sharp, the bitter taste of soot wrenching her back to her senses in seconds. The euphoric stupor she felt within the city was all well and good, but it was here that she felt truly alive.  
   
The girl hopped up onto the balls of her feet without a pause, her standing posture slightly bent with caution. Stood before the collapsed husk of a street, the girl took a moment to contemplate, correcting her thoughts, and running to catch up with herself. Ah! That was it, of course. Brushing the scraggly fridge out of her eyes, she stepped forward, her bare feet stirring the dust into gritty clouds behind her. Time to go home.

 


	4. Unknown Silhouette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NEVER show people you have more money than them.

The air was silent. Viola kept her steps steady as she walked, trying her best to remain inconspicuous. Her breath caught in her throat as she gazed through the streets, a collection of grey and half-collapsed buildings jumbled together, coated in soot and plant matter. She had been told once that the slums were part of the original city, but had been left to rot when the wall was built in the war. Now, it was completely cut off from safety.   
  
There was a cough, and Viola glanced up in alarm, realising there had been people watching her for some time. The skeletons of buildings overhung makeshift shelters, made mostly of rusted metal sheets and raggedy blankets. She shivered a little, seeing the misted eyes of people staring back at her, huddled in their dwellings against the cold. The gazes were sharp, and prickled her skin. She wasn't sure whether it was because they knew her to be a city dweller, or simply because she was a stranger, but her heart quivered in alarm. Gritting her teeth, she kept walking, knowing she simply couldn't afford to be stopped here. She needed to find help, she needed to go home.  
  
A dry breeze rustled her skirt, biting at her ears. A hollow, droning wail weaved its way through the crannies, melancholic in its passage. Melodramatic actually, the scene was straight out of a post apocalyptic film. That helped, the tension leaving her shoulders somewhat. Yeah, this was okay. Suddenly she caught the edge of her foot on a large rock, lodged in the road, and tumbled to her knees, causing her ankle to crackle. "Cripes!" Viola clamped a hand over her mouth at the involuntary rudeness, and tutted to herself. Her ankle was twisted sharply, not broken, but heavily strained. She sighed, the limp slowing her stride considerably. And who thought today could get any worse?  
   
The streets became more lively as she traveled closer to the wall of the city, more of the buildings being intact, and even some lights in the grimy windows. Peering around the corner, Viola looked on with interest at the scene, a multitude of hollowed-out buildings adapted into sizeable market stands. There were many people here, all dressed in similarly bedraggled attire, looking very tired and frail. Why were there so many people in a place like this? But the thing that concerned Viola most was the lack of conversation. As she made her way carefully down the road, she glanced at the people around her; a lot of them were simply walking by, with a few pausing to inspect the presented wares. None of them made eye contact, or even muttered a word, like a market of ghosts. The hair prickled on the back of Viola's neck, but she shifted her shoulders, and simply continued forward. She happened to glance up, when she saw a stall that caught her eye. There were handcrafted badges and charms hanging from the rafters, ranging from feathers to cogs, and scraps of dyed fabric. Not the most elegant of items, but they were intriguing to her, and she paused, stepping up to the stall. Then something caught her eye. There was a fabric flower sitting on the tabletop, made from stained but sunny yellow cotton, black lace in the centre. Picking it up, Viola cleared her throat, and gave a little wave to the old man sitting in the building behind the counter. "Um...how much, sir?" Her chest fluttered at using such a respectful term to a man beneath her, as had been engrained into her from a young age, but, her mother wasn't there to scold her. The milky gaze turned to her, staring in surprise from the recesses of his ancient face. His eyes raked over her for a moment, scrutinising her attire, and he gestured without a word: five fingers. She reached for her purse pocket, and pulled out a 10G sum, handing it over the counter. She flashed a genuine smile at the, frankly, alarmed expression, and pinned the flower to the rim of her collar, just above her chest. "Have a lovely day." She was rewarded with a toothy grin, and turned back towards the city.  
   
Unbeknownst to her, this display had caught the attention of two men, sitting idly by the side of the road not far away, and as she moved, they got to their feet and followed. The sky was darkening quickly now, and the clouds receded, showing the first hint of stars. Viola would have to hurry; she wasn't afraid of the dark, but she knew many a danger lurked beneath its shroud. Her steps echoed with a dull thud on the dirt, and her breath began to cloud the air in repetitive bursts. Another gust of wind shook through the area, battering her hair around her head, and she clutched her hands to her shoulders in a vain attempt to prevent the cold seeping in, spitting the hair from her mouth. She shivered, pressing a hand to her nose.  
   
There was the sound of footsteps on the path behind her, a slight crunch of gravel, and heavy boots. The breathing was shallow, they were trying to stay unnoticed. The breath hitched in Viola's throat, but she didn't stop walking, keeping her stride level. Okay...how to handle this? She glanced over her shoulder, giving herself enough time to identify the two men, heavily built, brutish even. Keeping her head still, Viola allowed her eyes to scan the area, before she spied a darkened alley to her left; it was about ten metres off, but she knew she didn't have a choice. She took a breath, allowing the air to fill her chest for a few seconds before she let it go, stilling her hammering heart. Thank god she hadn't worn high heels today. Sucking the air back into her lungs, she spun on her feet and broke into a run, causing a shout to go up behind her. Screeching into the alley, Viola gasped in alarm as she almost tripped over the rubbish piled up inside, stepping wide to avoid it. "Hey, get back here!" The voice chased her out into the street, rough and grating in her ears. She had intended to shout back, but it was becoming difficult to breathe without panting, so she saved it; it would only aggravate them anyway. Looking back, Viola turned to inspect her next route, when she ran right into someone. The breath was pushed from her on impact, and she looked up in surprise, this person was extremely boney, with hardly a cushiony feel of skin. "I...sorry! Excuse me." She gasped, before rushing past them, the footsteps closing in at an alarming rate.   
   
The next alley she entered was slick with mud, and after a few steps she let out a cry as she fell, slamming her back against the hard edge of a dumpster. Pushing a hand over her mouth, she clutched at her back, trying not to cry out. Her ankle wasn't doing well either, and both her injuries throbbed painfully. Then the two men came into the alley. Casting around wildly, Viola happened to notice a wooden pole sticking out of a bin bag beside her, much like the handle of a broom; she yanked it out, and clutched it to her back. There was a twist of fear in her stomach, this was not going to end well for her, but she was in no shape to run anymore. The alley was dark, and even though it was about two metres wide, no light seeped through. Viola squinted up at the two men, solid, even with their abject poverty. "Hello, little lady." This voice sickened her, his intentions slathered thick, and the tone cracked. "Why'd you run from us, huh? A little girl like you shouldn't be alone at a time like this, don't you know that?" Viola locked eyes with the speaker, his eyes glinting with moisture in the dark, she remained silent. The man tutted. "Aw, c'mon now, not gonna be any fun?"   
"I am not here for your amusement." She replied, polite, concise, unthreatening. Both men scoffed. "Course you are. We saw you got some good money on you. You give us that, and we'll let you go."  
"I used it all." She wasn't even lying. The man's friend grimaced.  
"Told you didn't I? Fucking waste of time." He snarled. Viola bit her lip at his language. This one was not in a good frame of mind, though, could she really blame him for his situation? The speaker looked back at her, and she saw a smile curl his lips, it was not a nice smile. "Well, that's not all we could do." He reached out for her with a large grimy hand, and her fingers twitched around the broom handle. She pushed herself back against the stone wall of the alley and knocked his hand away, resulting in a satisfyingly hollow 'thunk' as the wood connected with his knuckles. "Ow!" He exclaimed in protest, violently striking out and catching hold of Viola's hair, yanking her to her knees; she shrieked pitifully in response, and clawed at his hand. "Let go of me!" She shouted. _Someone, please help!  
_ "You shut your mouth brat!" The man bellowed, his breath all too close to her face. Her fingers scrabbled for a hold on her weapon, when she felt her wrists being tugged away, and pinned against the wall. For a few seconds, Viola truly thought she was done for.  
   
There was a small sound, like, a cough. The two men froze as they looked up, back down the alley where they had entered. Viola glanced up to see what they were looking at, and saw the silhouette of a man standing just inside the alley, and framed by the light from the street. The thug dropped her hair suddenly, and she staggered back to the ground, breathless, but still clutching her weapon. "What is it buddy? Want some of this? There's plenty to go around." The speaker snickered, but he was still tense, aware of the threat this man posed. The voice that spoke next was unlike anything Viola had ever heard, rather, one that could be felt; it rumbled softly over the words, low and comforting like a lullaby, yet edged with a dose of humour. "Not interested." It sounded like mockery, distasteful, but fun. There was tension in the two men's shoulders, but they both advanced upon this new speaker, bristling. "Then what do you want, huh?! Get lost!" The thug clenched his fists, spitting his words out into the dirt. The figure shook his head a little. "I want you vultures gone." He snapped his fingers in the darkness, producing a flicker of dark blue light to spark in response. Viola watched in amazement, as the thug tripped on his own feet, knocking his friend off balance, and causing them both to topple to the ground. Scrabbling to their feet, the two men took one last look at the figure before turning and stumbling over themselves out of the alley. "Quick! It's one of those things!" The alley became silent.   
   
The footsteps that followed were slow, cautious, and much lighter than the two men. The breath rasped out of Viola's mouth, and she clutched the broom handle to her chest. Whoever this person was, he was far stronger than her, and she was exhausted. Slowly, she edged herself up the wall until she was standing, and stepped out; she thrust her weapon forward, towards the figure in front of her.   
 She was temporarily taken aback as the man moved closer, for he was about a head shorter than she was, but she stood her ground. This person was definitely male, she could tell that much, and the outline of a top hat was perched neatly over his head. Her hands shook a little, and she barked out a warning, her voice threatening to falter. "S-stay back! Please..." He froze at once, obliging to her demand without question. The two stood facing each other for a moment, only being able to observe the outline of the other's features. The figure gave a tiny nod, and promptly turned away from her, heading back out into the street. For a moment Viola stood motionless, before carefully following. She gathered that if he was willing to turn his back on her, he either didn't perceive her as a danger, or he didn't mean her any harm. She suspected a bit of both. For a moment she stayed still, collecting her thoughts. This man was a magician.  
   
They were rare in her world, but she knew they existed: humans that were capable of using magic, a substance all but erased. Her mother had once told her of the magicians, a small group of people whose magic defined their status, as those worthy of the upmost respect and power. A precious commodity, most of whom ruled the government, and the entire city itself, at least in those lands. If it had been any other time, she would have minded her own business, but in this instance, she had practically had a brush with royalty. "Hey, wait!" Breaking out into the shadowed street, she trotted down the road towards her quickly retreating savour, and reached out a hand to stop him. Without a moments pause, he flinched away from her touch, not even glancing to see its position. Sharp reflexes. He hesitated for a moment, before slowing turning to face her, and her breathing slowed as she took in his appearance. His body was stocky, and slightly strangely proportioned, and he wore entirely black. There was a waistcoat covering his torso, embroidered with little red patterns, baggy, with shiny silver buttons, and coattails hanging down behind him; simple black suit trousers and a long sleeved shirt, glossy leather gloves covering his hands. There was a single red ribbon looped around his upper forearm on the right side, tied into a bow, and oddly out of place. The top hat was also black, with a length of red ribbon lining it; it was a little too big, and the brim came down low over his eyes. His face was the most intriguing however, for underneath the hat he wore a black length of fabric, stopping at the bridge of his nose, and folding neatly into his collar and around his neck. His eyes were surprisingly dark, and a fleck of light danced in each one, quivering slightly. As she looked closer, Viola's attention was drawn to the dent of his nose. The bridge seemed far too high up, and there was a sharp cut off where the mask was pulled tight. It seemed that he almost had no nose at all, like the tip had been sliced away. It was a little unnerving, but perhaps because of his height, or his endearingly podgy proportions, she wasn't afraid.   
   
"Thank you sir." She smiled politely, and curtseyed, as meaningful as that was with the state of her clothes, ripped and splattered with mud and black stains. The use of 'sir' felt more comfortable too, because whoever he was, this one was a man of class. He glanced away from her, his soft voice monotone, with an uncomfortable air. "That's okay." She was picking up a slight accent, New Yorker? It only came through with certain syllables, that caused his voice to drop expressively. She felt like it was the kind of voice she could listen to for hours. "Viola Thompson." She held out a hand, and he hesitated for a moment before taking it. "Sans." For a while they both just stood there, awkwardly, for Viola wasn't sure exactly where to begin, before Sans uttered a small sound, kind of like a 'heh', and turned to leave. "Wait a moment! You, you're a magician, right?" He looked at her curiously, but said nothing. "What is someone like you doing here? You should be in the high quarter of the city, shouldn't you?" A flicker of knowing regret passed through his eyes, but he didn't reply, exactly. "Mm."   
"Oh! I get it!" Viola's eyes glittered expressively. "You must be undercover, it explains the disguise. How terribly rude of me." Her next words were whispered. "I hope I didn't give away your position."   
"Heh, no. Lucky." He closed one eye. "If you had, I'd have to kill ya." Viola grinned, now feeling quite pleased with herself for discovering such a secret. You hear a lot about spies, but actually seeing one? That was fascinating. Sans seemed to match her giddy smile through his mask, though it did not reach his eyes at all. "Actually, would it be possible for me to ask your assistance?"  
"With what?"  
"With your...particular heritage, I expect you know a way back into the city don't you? Could you be so kind as to accompany me back there?" He glanced up, and his eyes were oddly suspicious. "Why?" He asked, simply.  
"I'm from inside the city. My train crashed, and my mother, I'm not sure where she is. Would it be possible for you to help me?" She was anxious entrusting a stranger, a man at that, with her safety. But even if she didn't trust him, he was a magician. She just, wasn't afraid.  
"Find your own way." He replied bluntly.  
"Oh...well, okay. I suppose you must be very busy. Thank you again." He nodded, and turned away once again. Viola just stood there. She didn't want to impose, but really, he was being very uncourteous. As she watched, it occurred to her that he seemed oddly relaxed letting her go with the knowledge she now had. _Honestly, would it really be that difficult for a person such as you to help one woman?_ She found herself glaring as his back, despite herself. "Would it really be that difficult for you? It's not like you appear to be in a hurry." She called out, a little snarkily. Sans turned once again, and slowly made his way back towards her, a bout of exasperation running through him. "You don't get it, I have..." His eyes flashed in recognition as he looked her up and down. Her dirty blue dress, the unkept but relatively straight brown hair, the wooden broom handle still clutched in her hands. Raising a hand to his forehead, he massaged his brow with a sigh. "Please? I'll be stuck out here if you don't. Do you really want me following you around?" She could hardly believe the words she voiced, a lady traipsing around after a man? Unthinkable. But, it was for her own safety, she could be excused for that. Sans heaved another sigh. "Fine. Follow me, kid."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to start taking requests for little inserts of monster characters, seeing as there are a lot to work with.  
> So, if you like a specific non-important monster, push a comment my way, and I'll see about writing them in when the time is right! :D
> 
> Thanks for your continued support, love you people. <3


	5. Affiliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wonder why he's so distant?

Viola shuffled nervously on her feet as she followed after Sans. She couldn't help but be anxious, but she tried her best to remain calm, it wouldn't do to appear vulnerable. As gracious as Sans was, at least after some coaxing, the lack of trust based on how little time they had interacted, as well as his overall appearance, worried her. But, it was fine. She would be grateful, once the ordeal was over, and that would be the end of it. Although, the fact that he was a magician, and that she knew he was, complicated matters. She let out a huff, and straightened out her tattered dress. _Head high Viola, you are a lady.  
_    
Sans remained silent, eyes ahead, posture fixed, the atmosphere steely. Viola wished he would say something, break the tension between them, reassure her, anything. But then again, he didn't have to do any of that, their situations were the same, and she had dragged him into this. If anything, she should repay him. "Thank you, for this."  
"You can thank me when we're safe." He replied bluntly, ouch. He wasn't making it any easier, that was for sure. "Gratitude goes a long way." She answered, trying to keep a cheerful note to her voice. "Does it?" _Is he trying to avoid conversation, or does he simply not like me?_ "Of course! It's a gift. It, inspires positive feelings, and it's friendly." He didn't respond to that, resorting to the same uncommitted noise of accent. "Heh."  
   
The two finally approached the wall of the city, the colossal gates stretching high above. Glancing around for a moment, Sans walked up to the side door, and gave it a gentle knock. The panel on the front of the structure flipped open, revealing a pair of eyes. "What's your business?" He asked, a rough tone to his voice. Sans pulled a slip of paper from his pocket, and passed it through the gap. The eyes turned to Viola questioningly. "This one's with me." Sans added, and after a moment, the door opened, and the two continued on into the city. Sans tipped his hat to the officer, and a dark look came over his face as he turned away. "Two left..."  
"Pardon?" Viola asked.  
"Two free passes left into the city." He tapped his pocket. "After that..." He pinched the bridge of his nose, and heaved a sigh. "Guess I'll have t'visit _her_ again. Crud." Whoever this person was, Sans obviously didn't like her very much, but Viola didn't pry; she gathered she already knew too much. "I'm sorry. I must be causing you so much trouble." He gently shook his head, in dismissal or agreement, she couldn't tell. Falling back into step behind him, she glanced around in interest. The common quarter, where the working class set up shop, and also where a lot of them lived. Viola had never seen this part of the city, big as it was, but in the moonlight the streets looked ghostly.  
   
"So, where you headin'?" Sans's eyes lit up in the shadows, the white light reflecting perfectly off the surface. Curiously, his irises remained invisible, pitch black pools without colour. "The high accommodations quarter. It shouldn't be far..." Viola trailed off, glancing around her in search of any kind of way mark. She didn't want to get lost. "Thank you kindly." She felt Sans's eyes on her as she dipped her head in thanks, and heard him utter a tiny sigh. "I'll get you there." Viola gazed at him in surprise, but he refused to meet her eye, simply turning his back and heading off down the street. "Oh, no no! You don't have to do that..." She didn't exactly feel safe having him know where she lived, but it didn't look up for debate, and she hurried to catch up.  
   
They walked once again in silence. Viola lifted her eyes to the sky, and watched the stars glimmer as they passed. The idleness drew her mind back to the crash, to her mother. She had been out there for at least a few hours, but Lilliane could still be outside the city, or dead, burned up by the fires. She shivered in the night air, needing to find a distraction. "I suppose they'll want to get the train back up and running as soon as possible, it'll be difficult for people otherwise."  
"Sure they will." Sans replied.  
"I can imagine it would be a problem for the slum dwellers too."  
"Mm." Viola stared at the back of Sans's head, feeling the distance of their talk. She wished she could walk beside him, at least to carry a proper conversation; staring at his back created a disconnect, and his voice was difficult to hear. "I hope no one was hurt." Silence. "Can I ask you something?" He paused for a moment.  
"Depends on the question."  
"Are there others like you, or do you work alone?"  
"I..." His shoulders slumped in the effort of avoiding conversation, but he finally gave in. "Yes and no."  
"I misunderstand."  
"There's other, uh, associates. But I work alone, f' the most part." Viola finally relaxed a bit, and she found herself smiling. "Are they gracious people?"  
"Well, they're friends. Dunno 'bout gracious, but we're all close enough." Sans spoke with an air of wistfulness, and some part regret. "How wonderful." Viola sped up a little in the hopes of walking alongside him, but to no avail, she only succeeded in making him walk faster. "I have a few friends, though, I never see them as often as I'd like. We're always so busy." The breath huffed from her mouth, walking and talking was difficult. "Work is important." Sans replied. Okay, now his non-committal statements were really getting to her. Viola was well-versed in the art of conversation, but Sans was proving to be her biggest challenge yet. It wasn't as though she felt he owed her anything, but common courtesy obligated him to at least make as much of an attempt as she did. "It's not as important as friends." She answered, a note of irritation to her voice. "Sometimes it has to be." Sans remained monotone, the steely calmness of his speech resolute. "Oh? And why would that be?" He lightly shook his head. "You wouldn't understand."  
   
Viola stopped walking, her hands clenched. Sans pulled to a halt, and turned his head to her with an air of confusion. "If you don't wish to converse, please say so. At the very least look at me when I'm talking to you! I may be below you good sir, but even so, common decency demands at least some form of respect when addressing someone." She kept her voice level, but she wasn't willing to be disrespected. His eyes widened slightly, and after a moment, he let out a sigh. Although it was hard to tell, Viola thought she saw the curl of a smile under his mask. "You aren't below me kid, I can assure you of that." Oh shoot, she just called the status of a magician into question. "No, you are, of course. You're a magician." The humour dropped away instantly.  
"Does that make me too important?"  
"Yes! You have the most power in the city, surely you know that?" Viola stared disbelievingly. "Guess I do..." He accepted her words, but there was a hint of bewilderment in his expression. Did he not understand his own status? The two simply looked at each other for a moment, before the smile came back. "Is that why you're still holdin' that?" He gestured smugly, and Viola clutched the broom handle closer to her chest. "I, no it's not! It's just, I was nervous and..." She let her head droop in shame; she didn't want to admit that she still half expected him to endanger her, but what else could he think? He let out a quiet chuckle, a low rumble of sound that hummed on its way out. "Smart. For a human you've got good senses." He turned away, and gestured for Viola to follow. "We're nearly there." A smile gripped Viola's cheeks, and she happily trotted along, no longer perturbed by his silence. She was just glad that he had finally acknowledged her. Still, 'for a human' was a strange term of phrase. _Oh well, maybe he just doesn't like people very much. It would explain a few things._ They continued on into the night.  
  
  
  
After crossing two quarters, the pair finally arrived in the high accommodations, and Viola began to recognise the area. Before long, they stood before the Thompson family mansion, the light flickering on the street below, and the lantern in the entryway swinging with a creak in the breeze. She liked the mansion, with its proud red brick, white window frames, and black beams. The windows were large and pristine, staring down onto the street like pupil-less eyes.  
"Well, here we are." Viola exclaimed. She was a little nervous of entering, and receiving news of whatever had become of her mother. But, no use delaying the inevitable. Sans gazed up at the rafters in quiet awe. "How many people do you live with?"  
"Well, only my parents are family, the rest are staff. We have a butler, my own personal maid, the cleaners, the gardener, and three kitchen staff. So, eleven?" Sans gazed at Viola with a strange look in his eye, and shook his head slightly; she couldn't understand why. "They all live here full time bar the gardener, so, it's like one big family. I don't have siblings, so my maid is the closest I have. I very much appreciate her." His expression shifted at that, and he seemed appeased. "Anyway, I shan't take any more of your time." Viola turned and bowed her head again. "Thank you graciously, I am in your debt."  
"I's no problem..." Sans replied. He seemed uncomfortable with her formality. Raising her head, she grinned. "Well, now I can tell my mother I met a real magician. I won't mention your name of course." Sans lowered an eyelid as he met her smile. "Yeah, trade secrets an' all that."  
"Farewell." Viola turned and began to walk up the steps to the porch. Resting a hand on the doorknob, she turned back as Sans called her. "Hey, kid." His voice had dropped considerably, and he looked very serious. "I want you to know that I have my reasons. It would be best if you forgot about me."  
"It's okay, I won't tell anyone anything." Viola replied. "You don't have to worry that I'm a loose end-"  
"Do not approach if you see me, I am not your friend." His words were icy, and his eyes dark under the brim of his hat. Viola felt a chill come over her, and she gazed at Sans in alarm. In a moment, he turned his back, and vanished into the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you Sans bud. ^^
> 
> Thank you for your continued support, I will keep it up!


	6. Makeshift Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It gets cold sometimes. Okay, it gets cold a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These insert chapters always look so small compared to how they look on my iPad.  
> Goddamnit. >.<

Home. It wasn't much, but it was something. The sky had darkened along the way, and the moonlight gleamed through the rooftops, dripping onto the stone of the street, pale, ghostly. The girl had positioned herself well, as least so far. None of the roaming gangs had caused her any trouble, and those that she saw seemed uninterested, save for a couple of curious looks. The den was situated at the end of an alley, enclosed on all sides, and occasionally overshadowed by light from the windows above. One side of the alley was taken up by a metre tall black metal fence, typically decorated by spikes, rusted and old. The girl spent many a night gazing between the bars at the accompanying street, which was barren of life, the houses being too broken down for practical use.   
   
The den itself was whatever she made of it. The few possessions she did have were small and insignificant, a rusted lantern with a dud candle was the most important, a box of matches beside it, to light when it got dark. The girl did so then, and the tiny flame glimmered as it lit up the small space, the light bouncing off various glossy objects; most of them were glass bottles, varying sizes and colours, each holding a specific quantity of grimy gutter water. The den was topped with a patchwork blanket, thick enough to keep out the wind, but threadbare in places, and it was tied to the top of the fence, connected on the other side with the door handle of the building behind, one which the girl knew was never used. The cold stone of the street was coated with a mat, by no means thick enough to be slept on comfortably, but, she lived with what she had. There was also a dusty pillow in the corner, reserved for sleeping only, to keep it as clean as possible.   
   
The bottle collection was the girl's pride, and took up the most space. Each sat in size order against the wall, and the amount of water also varied by size. There was a small stick on the ground next to them, and the girl picked it up before tapping it lightly against one of the bottles, producing a hollow resounding clink. A low C. Good, no water had evaporated yet.   
   
Yes, from as far as the girl could remember, she had always been able to tell apart the many sounds the world made, down to the most basic key. She wasn't sure how she had found the skill, for she had never touched an instrument in her life. Well, that wasn't strictly true, perhaps she had when her parents were still around, but that time was lost to her. She regarded the 'gift' with bittersweet resentment, for as interesting as it was, it wouldn't help her survive, not out there. Still, it was the only thing that kept her entertained in such a world, as least as far as entertaining the starved went. It was a distraction, if anything.  
   
Falling into a sit underneath the shelter, the girl surveyed the street outside through the darkness. There were a couple of lights a way off, and the distant sounds of people having an argument, but other than that it was silent. She tapped the bottles absently, and the blunt sound of her instrument rattled through the air. D E D, G A B. She sighed gently, and pulled the pillow close to her chest against the cold, the dust rising in waves. Crawling into the far corner, she took one last look at the sky, now littered with specks of light, before curling up, and falling asleep.

 


	7. Furry Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forget whether he was a gentleman, was he hot?

Viola was met by tears and blessings upon her return. Lilliane had made it back before her, sustaining only a broken arm and a few burns. Although she was questioned, her parents were as tired as she was, and without much coaxing they let her go. She wouldn't mention Sans just yet, that would only make more fuss, and she needed a rest. A shower and a change of clothes later, Viola was lying on her bed in a white fluffy dressing gown. She rolled over onto her front, and stared out through the glass of her large window, the dark running on for miles. There was a quiet knock on the door behind her, and a voice announced: "Miss Viola? It's Clara."  
"Come in." She answered, scrambling upright. A small and unassuming girl entered, carrying a tea tray. "Your evening tea m'lady."  
"Thanks." Putting the tray down, Clara walked over to her, holding a medical kit in her hands. "I need to dress your wounds, please remove your gown." Viola shrugged off her sleeves and turned around, allowing Clara to tend to her back. "Oh, you have no idea what I've been through today Clara."  
"We were very concerned for you after the Countess returned. However did you manage to get back on your own?"  
"I had help, and he knew a way into the city as well." Viola winced as a cold press was put against her bare back. " _He?_ You kept company with a male stranger? Miss, that's dangerous!"  
"But you see Clara, he was a magician! And he saved my life." Clara looked up at her with wide eyes. "Are you sure?"  
"Yes!" Viola sat up and grinned at Clara with a spark in her eyes. "He snapped his fingers and summoned a blue light that...did something to the people who were hurting me. Isn't that fascinating?"  
"What did he look like? Was it like in the stories?" Clara asked, as she carefully secured an ankle support around her leg. "Well, I couldn't see his face, he had it covered up. But his waistcoat was really pretty, very refined."  
"I can imagine." Clara pulled herself up and straightened out her dress, passing a folded note into Viola's hands. "Your schedule for tomorrow, m'lady." She concluded, a little stuffily. "I'll take my leave then, have a good evening." She dropped a curtsey, and left with barely a sound. Viola tutted, she had hoped to speak more of Sans, at least to someone who would indulge her. Her parents had never cared for her stories after all. She skimmed over the schedule with a disappointed air. Shopping again at 1pm sharp tomorrow, a Friday. Wonderful.  
  
  
  
"If I may mother, what are we looking for?" Viola asked. Her stride today was a little better than it had been, but a full day of shopping wasn't going to do her any good. "Confectionery my dear, as gifts for the soirée. And once you _finally_ decide on your dress, you'll also need accents."  
"Is that necessary? I mean, it's not as though anyone is going to be paying that much attention."  
"My my." Lilliane brushed her hair off her face with a sigh. "When will my girl learn to understand the importance of this? You listen here, there are going to be many people looking for available courtship at this event, that means they're going to be evaluating everything. It is imperative that you're perfect." Viola looked down sadly. _I'm not a prize winning cow am I?_ Lilliane seemed to notice her expression and gently leaned her broken arm on her shoulder, neatly cast in plaster and held in a sling. "Viola sweetheart, I'm sorry. It's not that I try to discourage you, it's simply that I worry. I want you to have a good future, but you know you're running out of time." Viola nodded, brightening a little. She only had three years left at the most to find a partner, but she simply didn't feel ready to make such a decision. She had met plenty of nice people, but they weren't what she needed; she needed someone who would give her the time of day, and accept her passions. There had been a suggested suitor once who fit, he had even gotten so far as to have dinner at their home. But although Viola was attentive, she was just as likely to spend her time playing piano for hours on end, and that mis-commitment ensured potential suitors would lose interest in her conversation topics rather quickly. Of course she could find other things to talk about, but in her opinion, lying to a suitor would simply set them up for disappointment, and that wasn't something she could do to anyone. Loveless marriage, a horror; and although divorce was possible, those who did so seldom lived in kinship again.  
  
There was a twinge in Viola's ankle, and she hobbled desperately, wincing with each step. Lilliane turned to her as she dropped a bag she was holding to lean against the side of the building next to them. Lucky the bag only held clothing. "Oh Viola, why didn't you say something? Give that to me, and go and sit by the fountain over there."  
"But mother, your arm! You can't carry anything more." She protested. Lilliane was already holding two bags herself. "I don't want to hear it, you carry on like this and you'll do yourself more damage. You don't want to be dancing at the party with a bad ankle now do you?" Leading her over to the courtyard at the end of the street, Lilliane sat Viola down on a bench and dropped the bags beside her. "I shan't be long, just stay here and rest." She turned away and walked off. Viola sighed inwardly at her lack of usefulness, and her eyes traveled lazily across the scenery. The fountain in the centre of the courtyard was simple in design, an upright and pristine marble fixture with depictions of salmon dribbling water into the basin beneath. The next street along housed a farmers market, colourful striped stalls overflowing with local produce from the neighbouring country towns, transported by train, of course. The bustle felt homely, even thought it was nothing like her home, and she listened absently to the various pitches the stall owners called out as people passed by.  
  
That as when she saw it, a tiny figure stood some way off. They looked to be a child, no more than a five year old, huddled under a scruffy cloak that trailed in the dust, a hood pulled low over them. They were stood stock still, as though trying to become lost in the background; and honestly, they apparently could, no one glanced to watch them as they walked past. Viola followed the direction of their head to a stall at the end of the row, piled high with baked goods, bread, muffins, pastries, the whole lot. The little figure shuffled towards it, their feet teetering with nervousness as they moved. Viola gathered she knew exactly what they were trying to do, but somehow, she found herself rooting for the little child. Something about them was so fragile, like ice in the sunlight. They reached the stall, crouching against the counter, and shivering a bit. Slowly, they peaked up over the edge to watch the owner, and just as he turned his back, they reached up and grabbed a large loaf of bread, almost as big as they were. Ducking down, they turned back towards the courtyard and made a run for it, just as a shout went up behind them. "Stop that thief!" Viola's heart sank, it appeared someone else had been watching too. Startled by the sudden sound, the child tripped over their feet and fell flat on the stone road, the loaf skittering along the ground. Their hood flapped up off their face, and Viola's stomach dropped as she took in their features. They weren't a human child. Little ears twitched on the top of their head, their eyes large and black, their fur white with a tint of yellow, reminding her of dandelions. They were...a rabbit? At least, some form of lapine creature. Leaping forward on all four feet, they grabbed the bread, and locked eyes with Viola as they glanced up. A flash of fear danced across their features, and they turned tail and rushed towards the nearest alley. Viola got to her feet and looked back at the stall, where the aforementioned owner was hastily talking to a policeman. The little creature could never hope to outrun humans on their tiny legs, and before she quite knew what she was doing, Viola set off after the quickly retreating figure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Would you look at that? Two weeks late but I still managed to upload, ain't that great? :D
> 
> Work is still slow, but I'm going to keep trying, so. Stay tuned my dudes!


	8. Hop to It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I've ever seen such eyes. They're...oddly captivating.

The alley she had entered was a dead end, a few bins and boxes being the only visible objects. As she stepped forward, her shoes clicked on the stone, and a tiny gasp emanated from the nearby clutter. "Hello?" Viola asked, keeping her voice low and gentle as possible. Silence. She carefully made her way over to the wall, crouching down in front of a box lying on its side, with the lid shut tight. Very slowly, she pulled it away, to reveal the rabbit sitting inside. For a moment, the two simply stared at each other, Viola in fascination, and them in shock. She realised the rabbit was female, as underneath the cloak she wore a tiny little dress made of pink fabric, frilly and layered, like a tutu. She clutched the loaf of bread to her chest with delicate little paws, and her ears twitched, folding partially flat against her head. A thought crossed Viola's mind as to how a rabbit would have the intelligence to steal, when the poor little creature burst into tears. She squeezed her eyes shut and sobbed quietly as large droplets of water rolled down her face. _Can rabbits even cry?_ No, this creature wasn't a rabbit, not a normal one at least; but she wasn't afraid.  
   
Her chest burned at the sight of such distress, and she found herself speaking before she could stop herself. "Oh sweetheart don't cry! It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you." She had a sudden urge to pet the child's fur, partially to comfort, and partially because it just looked so...soft. She frowned to herself at her lack of composure, but her train of thought was quickly lost, as the rabbit began to speak back. Her voice was tiny and high pitched, wavering between the occasional hiccup. "N-no... Mama said humans are bad people. That they want to hurt us." As Viola considered it, she realised the creature was probably right. Her society wasn't the most...accepting.   
"Perhaps you're right, but I don't. I want to help you." She looked up at Viola questioningly.  
"Why?"  
"Because you're a child, and you're in danger."  
"You do...?" Viola nodded gently with a smile.  
"What's your name?"  
"Um...C-Caramel. My friends call me Mel." _I think I've fallen in love._ The unsolicited part of Viola's brain commented.  
"Alright Caramel, my name is Viola. Now, please can you listen to me?"  
"Are you going to tell me off for stealing?" She pulled the bread loaf even closer.   
"No no, I'm sure you have your reasons. But you know people saw you, and they're going to be here any minute. I need you to come with me."  
"No. My brother's waiting for me. I...also can't trust you..." Mel looked away from her. Although she could understand the little creature's perspective, now wasn't the time for argument. Viola reached carefully inside the box and pulled Caramel into her arms, her fingers tingling at the texture of her fur, so soft she could barely feel it. The rabbit sat still for a moment, before letting out a shriek and scrabbling to worm out of her gasp, the way most rabbits do. "No! Please, please, let go of me!"  
"Shhh, be quiet." Viola spoke in a soothing tone, but she could easily hear the quickly approaching footsteps of the policemen. She crouched down behind a stack of boxes and pushed her hand over Caramel's mouth, trying her best to be gentle. She went still as she heard the footsteps, and gazed up at Viola with fearful eyes. But Viola already had an idea. "Listen." She whispered. "I'm going to have to ask you to hide under the hem of my dress. There's enough room that we can walk together without you being seen. Then I can get you back to your brother, okay? Can you do that for me?" The little creature nodded, and she carefully lowered her back to the ground, before getting to her feet.  
   
"Good afternoon officers." She began with a slight curtsey.  
"Miss, may I ask what you're doing down here?" One of them replied stiffly, very aware of her status.   
"I believe I may have gotten lost. Do forgive my intrusion." She gave them all a polite smile; manipulation is never as easy.  
"O-oh, no, of course." She carefully walked past them, and back out into the street, trying not to step on Mel's paws as she did so. She was huddled to her leg, and Viola made sure she walked slowly enough for her to keep up. As she made it back to the fountain Lilliane strode up, she gave the impression that there would be hell to pay. Oops. "There you are! What did I say about going off on your own? Do you want to be taken advantage of?"  
"I...sorry mother." She tensed a little, and stepped over Mel so that she sat between her legs out of the way.   
"Anyway, it's time for us to go. The lack of confectionary here is appalling!" She turned and began a brisk walk back down the street.   
"Viola..." Mel murmured.   
"Give me a moment." She glanced around hurriedly. Lilliane's mind was often a difficult one to change. Confectionary, confectionary? _Confound it! Of all the things to have difficulty finding._ She tripped a little as she caught her toe on Mel's leg, and muttered her apologises. Then, a flash of purple invaded her vision. It was the shop she had seen yesterday, and she looked up with interest. The letters spelling out the name: 'Spider Silk' were painted in white upon the lilac. And today, luck had finally decided to be on her side, not her mother's. "Mother!" Viola called out, stopping her with an arm. "Have you tried this one yet?" Lilliane looked over the shop with scrutiny, before nodding.   
"Well, perhaps it's worth a look." Viola breathed a sigh as she followed her inside, and for a moment, forgot what she was doing.  
   
She seemed to have stepped into another world entirely, as a wall of sweetness hit her, softly enfolding her senses and causing a shiver to run. Now that she could get a closer look, Viola noticed the ceiling was covered in strange shimmering purple threads that hung at intervals, patterned like spiderwebs. The back wall was taken up by shelves, neatly organised into boxes, chocolates, cakes and other baked goods, and the counter itself incorporated a wide selection of teas, along with menus. Currently there was no one present in the shop, but a quiet humming was trickling through a door in the back wall, along with the smell of freshly baked pastries. "Hello?" Lilliane called out, being met with as cheerful and surprisingly elegant voice, the syllables elongated and lilting. "Just a moment!" The door opened to reveal a young woman in a sweeping royal blue dress, lined with black lace and layered like a rose. There was a large red ribbon stitched down the back in a zigzag, folded between two rolls of black cloth. Viola found it odd that such a heavy amount of fabric would be built into the back of the outfit, but it wasn't as though she really understood the making of clothes anyway. As the woman moved closer, her features became clear, her face being the most unusual. It was pleasantly round, and partially covered by a masquerade mask in light blue, decorated by black cobweb patterns and a red crystal centred on her forehead. Her inky black hair hung long around her shoulders, falling in curly waves to her elbows, and her skin was powered pale. Her mouth was small and curved to the left, producing a mischievous smile with a hint of fun, and her eyes were large and extremely dark. Viola guessed she was oriental, her body and features are small and elegantly defined. She leaned over the counter with a hand resting under her chin, coated in fine black velvet from her fingertips to her shoulder. Her poise was one of refinement, and Viola found herself wondering which esteemed family she belonged to. "Hello my dear lady. How may I help you today?" She spoke with a smile, and looked upon Lilliane intently.   
"Yes, well you see, I am to be entertaining guests at a party soon, and I need confectionary gifts that would suit. Do you have anything of particular quality?" The woman rested a finger on her lip in a surprisingly alluring fashion.   
"Hmm...why yes, I do believe I can be of assistance. Is there anything specific you had in mind?" Viola edged slowly towards the doorway. If she was going to leave, she needed to do it now, but she didn't think she could manage it without her mother's notice. She suddenly felt eyes on her, and as she turned to look, she saw the woman was watching. While Lilliane talked, the woman paid her almost no attention at all, her eyes locked with Viola's in an almost predatory manner. She walked out from behind the counter and put a hand on Lilliane's shoulder. "Tell you what, I'll show you our stock, and you can see if there's anything you like. I can assure you, perfection is what we strive for." She directed Lilliane away from Viola and towards the back of the shop, giving her a wink, and gesturing towards the door. Viola stared at her in surprise, but she turned away before she had the chance to thank her. However, she had given her an escape. Exiting the shop, Viola ducked into a side alley and Mel scrambled out from her skirts. "Where to?" Viola asked her.  
"Um, just through to the other street. I'll show you."  
  
  
  
After a swift walk through the neighbouring hubbub of people and shops, Viola and Caramel entered an enclosed alley, out of the noise. The little rabbit bobbed forward and called out: "Brother? It's me." A slightly taller figure stepped out of the shadows, wearing a similar long cloak, and a little dusty jacket. He still only came up to Viola's waist, and his ears twitched as he gazed up at her. He crossed his arms and frowned, although she could see he was shaking slightly at standing in her presence. "Mel...why are you with a _human?_ " He spoke distastefully, as though she was less than garbage.  
"Viola helped me, I know she's scary but..." Mel's ears flopped apologetically. "She's not like them. Promise." She handed him the bread loaf, and he scoffed.  
"I'm not scared of her, she's just a girl." Viola found herself a little more bothered by his comment than she would like to admit, but he was a child after all.   
"Exactly! I'm just a girl." She crouched down to Mel's level and smiled fondly. "It seems like you're having trouble getting food, is that right?" She nodded meekly.   
"I don't know about the others, but, we can't let anyone know who we are, so."  
"Well, I tell you what, I'll come back here tomorrow, and I'll bring you something to help your family. How about that?" She wasn't sure what possessed her to do it, maybe it was curiosity. _They're just children, I need to help them._ They didn't seem dangerous to her anyway, even if she had no idea what they were. Something about them seemed just so, human, even more so than most humans she knew. Caramel gazed at her in astonishment, her eyes sparkling."You would do that?" Her little face was just too sweet. "Of course." Viola reached out a hand to shake her paw, when a tingle flashed up her back. There was someone watching them, and when she glanced up, she wasn't sure how to react.  
   
Sans stood at the end of the alley, and as she saw him, he walked forward towards them, his face darkened. "Sans?" Caramel asked as she turned to look. It seemed that she somehow knew him. As he got close, he stood between the two, facing Viola eye to eye. Quietly he spoke. "Caramel, take your brother and go home, okay?" Mel looked confused, but didn't object.  
"I'll see you later Viola..." She mumbled, before following her brother off into the darkness. Sans' body language was extremely closed and defensive, and he stood before Viola until he was sure the two children had gone. Then he quickly turned away, and walked back out towards the street. Viola hurried to catch up. "Sans?" She asked. She wasn't sure if she was breaking his command, but he had approached her after all. Now she had a lot more questions that needed answering. He walked briskly, almost at a run, but not quite enough to draw attention to himself. Viola also glanced around her as she followed, hoping her appearance alongside a, frankly, suspicious figure wouldn't cause a stir. "Sans..." She repeated, but he continued to ignore her. _Why are you running away?_ "What were those children?" She kept her voice low, and finally won the battle of conversation between them.   
"None of your business." He replied darkly, his whisper of a voice resonating in a way that sounded like he was speaking through something hollow.   
"I know it wasn't, but it is now. You can't truly expect me to ignore this can you?" He stopped walking, and turned towards her. Now that she could see him in the light, she was surprised by the pallor of his skin, and his eyes, still remaining so dark. Now directly watching her, Viola suddenly became aware of the intensity of his gaze; it was piercing, and seemed to cut right through her. "Yes, I do. This is more than you can understand." He never raised his voice once, which somehow made his threat more frightening, and the relaxed slur of his speech became clearer. Viola found herself speechless, and something seemed to be telling her to leave the situation. "I...forgive me." _He's a magician. He's better than me._ But she still wanted to know. "Just, know that it may not stop me." Sans heaved a sigh.  
"I guessed you might say that." He looked her over, thoughtful this time. "Don't let anyone know kid, it's real important."  
"You can count on me." Viola smiled, relieved.  
"Heh. Hope so." His eyes remained cold and his one note laugh humourless, but his defensiveness had disappeared. "Bye." And then, he walked off without another word.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, so much work recently.
> 
> I know I only keep apologising buuut, holidays yo. :/
> 
> From now I have more time, so I can keep uploading for you guys!


	9. Familiar Silhouette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't care for monsters.

The girl woke up. The air chilled her skin, and as she unstuck herself from the mat on the floor, the ridges engraved themselves into her face with a red pattern of lines. She groaned in discomfort, for her joints felt like they had be cemented together with superglue. _Lovely.  
_    
The first feeling that hit her was hunger, a gnawing sensation that burned her stomach and forced her to leave the 'warmth' of the den. Crawling out to the edge of the street, she stared distantly at the horizon, wondering how the hell she was going to find enough food to survive today. It was easy in the city, but the guards hadn't given her enough time to steal anything, and now she was on her own. Stepping out into the street, the girl crossed to a building on the opposite side, dilapidated and crumbling beneath its own weight. Securing her foot on the wall, the girl hoisted herself up onto the roof, before taking a running jump onto the adjacent building; she landed lightly, and proceeded to clamber up the scaffolding onto the top, loosing a few stones that clattered to the ground below as she did so.  
   
The wind gripped her as she stood upon the stone, staring off the precipice into the dusty streets below, a broken skyline filled with disjointed and decaying buildings, the air clogged with filth. The girl crouched low and surveyed the empty landscape for any sign of life, her hair flaring out around her head. She sat about three storeys above the ground, a perfect spot, away from the fighting, away from reality. In some ways she wished she could stay there forever, that little perch above the chaos. Everything looked so much simpler from a distance, after all; but she knew she couldn't. Nothing lasts forever, and her body would waste away in a matter of days. She needed to keep moving.   
   
A figure came into view about a mile off, and hope leaped in the girl's chest. They were alone, perhaps she could pick pocket them? Sliding down off the roof, the corrugated metal panels squeaked at an F# as she moved across them, and she dropped to the ground, lying low to the wall. The crunch of footsteps on the gravel sounded somewhat like a low B, and she carefully peered over the bricks, sizing up her mark. As she watched the figure approach, she realised she knew them. Her shoulders sagged in disappointment, and she tutted to herself. _Damn monsters._ It was the skeleton, small, finely clothed, and an extreme threat. The gangs had kept to themselves before they came along, but now nowhere was safe. Just the other day she had seen one of them take out an entire mob singlehandedly, using a collection of strange magical spears that she could summon at will. They were certainly an oddity, and if the city refused to indulge them, they were the slum's business through and through.   
   
Of all she had seen, the skeleton was definitely the most active. She had never really seen him _do_ anything per-say, but he moved about regularly, entering the city she assumed. How, she wasn't sure, the Glaucous Birds didn't seem to be affiliated with him; but she had watched him pass many times, though he had never paid her any mind.   
   
The girl decided to sit still and wait for him to pass; it wouldn't do to get involved, not with someone so dangerous. She gazed at his profile as he got closer, absent curiosity winning her over. He wasn't wearing his mask today, or his hat. The crooked smile plastered on his face did nothing to hide the obvious pain in his eyes. He looked...miserable, almost as miserable as the girl felt in a lot of ways, his jaw slack and eye sockets glimmering; but she had no room for pity. He wore clean clothes, shoes, and seemed to be well nourished, at least, as far as she could tell with the little knowledge she had of monsters; she, had none of these things. She found herself becoming bitter as she watched his face, and her stomach growled, a cruel reminder. _You have nothing to be so fucking depressed about._ Her conviction was lax though, she had no energy to spare for hate. The skeleton flinched mid-step, his eyes becoming dark and alerted. Throwing out his right hand, a blue light glimmered in his fingers, and the girl gasped in alarm, for he was aiming at her. Suddenly, she was jolted into the air, her limbs frozen in place and her entire body chilled. She struggled to breathe as her chest seized up, her heart constricting in effort. But, she felt nothing, no fear, no resentment; after all, she didn't care if she died, it wasn't as though she was really living in the first place. Still, this skeleton was a coward if he thought he could use his stupid tricks to cut her down, it wasn't a fair fight.  
   
He turned to face her, his eye sockets black and empty, apart from a rapidly flickering light in the left side. The girl couldn't help but be impressed by this display, the mess of blue and yellow was mesmerising, if not a little showy. "Who are you, human?" His voice was tight and a little husky, like he had been crying. Though it was difficult to tell, it seemed like she had caught him off-guard. "A spy?" Now his words were stronger, cold as a blade, wavering from a low C#. Still, the harmonious qualities were anything but unpleasant to listen to. The girl remained silent as he held her in place, her frail limbs coated in a haze of blue light, flowing like water. Tilting his hand back, the skeleton drew her closer. "Well?" His voice was even lower this time, a growl of sound that demanded her attention. Leaning her head to one side, the girl collected what saliva she could from her dry lips, and spat defiantly into the dirt. _I won't speak for you, Mr Skeleton._ He squinted slightly, but that was all the response he gave. "So that's how I's gonna be." With a slight bump, the girl was dragged even closer, now only leaving about a metre’s gap between them, a puny kid and a stocky monster. She lifted her head and stared him in the face, her expression remaining one of relaxed disinterest. As they gazed at each other, she saw the skeleton's mask falter rather abruptly. Something flashed behind his eyes, a mixture of complex emotions that were too subtle for her to read, and he sharply sucked in air through his teeth. Slowly, the girl was brought back down to the ground, and she gasped as her chest was released, coughing harshly. The skeleton stood motionless before her, his pupils still invisible, almost like a trance. She looked at him with a blink, before slowly backing away. Time to leave.  
  
Like a switch trigger, the quivering white pupils lit up, and he watched her in quiet...awe? Shock? She couldn't tell. For a moment he seemed to be searching for the right words. "What's your name?" The girl frowned incredulously, that was just too far. She turned quickly and jogged off back towards the alleyway, towards the den. Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed that the skeleton made no attempt to follow, standing, almost statue-like in the street. The girl, didn't know what to think. He had no interest in humans, she knew that much, to the point where he went out of his way to avoid the most populated areas of the slums. She had watched him many times, bored as she was. So why her? A feeling of dread filled her gut, only increasing her hunger pains further. She hoped this wouldn't mean trouble for her, she could do without monster business. One thing she was sure of, they were only a bigger source of problems.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's on time? :D


	10. Glittering Eyes and Gossamer Threads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It keeps happening...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if this chapter makes you hungry! That was partially the intention. >_>

Saturday. Viola sat alone at the dining table, eating a collection of toast and eggs, honey-coloured tea sitting on the side. The clean white tablecloth lay along the ten metre length of the table in creaseless perfection. Her eyes were glazed over, and it was obvious that she wasn't really conscious. "Viola, you need to get more sleep sweetheart." Lilliane passed a hand in front of her face, before tidying her hair, delicately tucking a few strands behind her ear. It wasn't sleep that was the problem, in truth Viola had simply too many things to think about. She hadn't even had the time to play piano, and her fingers itched in protest. _What were they?_ The rabbits didn't bother her, but the situation did. What was Sans doing that involved them? Magician business obviously, and that was nothing to do with her. She sighed, and puffed out her cheeks indignantly. She couldn't help but wish it was.  
   
"Alright." Lilliane announced, settling at the table and leafing through her planner book. "I've organised your dance lesson for later in the day, so for now you have an hour to work on your reading. And it would be extremely useful if you decided on your dress for the party." She gave her a gentle smile. "You have the morning free." For once in her life, Viola wished she was shopping today, if only so she could go and find Caramel. "Preston, would you have a moment to pick up the confectionary order I placed?" Lilliane asked. Preston, the household butler, tall and pleasant in personality as a Summer breeze, shook his head.   
"I'm afraid not madam, the earl has my day fully booked." She tutted.  
"Pity. I wonder when Clara is available." Viola perked up at this, her mind tumbling excitedly.   
"Was this order from yesterday mother? I could go for you."  
"Out of the question. You know you can't go outside alone." Of course that's how it was.   
"But aren't you very busy? I shan't be more than a moment, it's not like the shops are far away." Lilliane signed, glancing over her lists with an agonised expression.   
"Oh...very well. I hope you realise this is against my better judgement." Viola grinned, putting a hand on her shoulder and beaming.   
"Of course!" Today was a good day.  
  
  
  
Viola felt a mixture of ecstatic nervousness as she stepped off the porch and lifted her head to the sky. Clear, wisps of cloud passed over the terracotta rooftops, almost as if to touch them. This was, a strange happening, when was the last time her mother had allowed her outside alone? Never, surely. That day she wore a simple green dress, complete with a black corset that pinched her stomach and arched her back uncomfortably. The yellow flower brooch was once again pinned to the collar in pride of place, somewhat of a memento of her experience outside the city. In her hand she held a small basket covered in a white cloth, containing a few consumables she could smuggle from the kitchens. She hoped it would be enough for Caramel, and hoped even more that she would be able to meet her at all. She didn't have much food suited to rabbits, so it would be an embarrassment if she was unable to eat any of it, but it wasn't like she was normal. She shook her head. _Stop fussing, it'll all be fine._ Of all unattractive personality traits she had, needless worrying was one of the worst. She never worried for herself either, only for everyone else, to an insane degree.  
   
Rounding the corner, she came upon the high quarter shopping area, bustling with activity, yet sophisticated in every possible way. It felt odd to walk down the street alone, no aimless chatter from her mother, no real boredom either, as everyone else moved past her without a care. The day was warm, and the grit from the road billowed into rising clouds; before long, Viola felt herself becoming rather parched. The chocolate shop came into view, and she ducked inside out of the crowds, dusting off her clothes, and pushing her hair aside. As before, there was no one present in the shop, and the delicate aroma enclosing her was an instant relaxer. "Excuse me?" She called out. _They really need to get a call bell in here._ The door opened and the woman exited, a tray of tartlets held in one hand. "Good morning." She set the tray down and leaned over the counter expectantly. "Why hello again dearie, what may I do for you?" Her eyes were intensely focussed, and Viola almost felt as though she could be hypnotised by them the longer she looked. "My mother Lilliane put in an order yesterday? She sent me to collect."  
"Ah~ of course." She leaned over and shouted through the door to whoever was on the other side. "Wrap up that order will you?" Turning back towards her, the woman smiled sweetly, and gestured to the nearest chair. "It's going to take a while, why don't you have a seat? I'll get us some tea." It felt more like a command than a question, even with the way she said it, and Viola settled herself at one of the round tables, noticing with a smile, that the napkins had been folded to imitate little spiders.  
"I never had the pleasure of knowing your name honey, may I?" The woman asked, settling across from her in such a fluid motion, Viola was almost certain she must be a higher status than she was.   
"Oh, sorry. Viola Thompson."  
"Charmed sweetie, I'm Muffet." As she took Muffet's hand, she noticed just how small and delicate it was. As she pulled away, a thought occurred to her that she had only seen four digits attached to the hand, rather than five, but now Muffet had her hands clasped in her lap and she couldn't tell. She guessed she must've not been paying attention. The smile never left Muffet's lips, but rather than feeling welcome, as the gaze shifted to her, Viola felt vulnerable; the look was hungry, and seemed to drink in her features. "So my dear, what is such a delicious creature like you doing running errands for people?"  
"Oh, it's no problem, I wanted to."  
"Oh?" She ran a hand through her hair, the silky quality gleaming in the light.   
"My mother...isn't exactly the most relaxed person. Although, that is the correct way for her to be. She doesn't let me out of the house alone of course." Muffet nodded.   
"Yes, a young lady alone would be too vulnerable." She seemed to lean closer, her words dripping sensually. "You must be very brave hm?"  
"I...wouldn't know about that. There are simply things I wish to do." Viola felt uncomfortable, and the sickly sweet smell in the air was starting to make her a little lightheaded. The pitching whine of a kettle meandered through the back door, and Muffet got to her feet. "Teatime." She brought out a set of twin teacups and saucers, finely decorated with purple mayflowers and green leaves, delicate curved petals and sweeping lines. "What type of tea would suit? I have Bohea, Congou*, Earl Grey, Souchong or Pekoe."  
"Impressive." Viola breathed. "Congou please."  
"Ah, traditional tastes? Good choice. I tend to indulge in Souchong myself." The teapot was much the same design as the cups, perfectly round, and belching steam. Viola couldn't help herself, and the witty response flitted out before she could stop it.   
"I suppose that would mean you have expensive tastes?" The large black eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment Viola wondered if she had severely offended, but then, Muffet burst out laughing, a full and resounding tinkle of sound, like bells. She covered her mouth with a hand, and gave Viola a big wink. "You know it honey." One of the tarts Muffet had made was placed in from of her, smoothly surfaced with a tangerine-gold filling.   
"Are you sure? I don't have any money currently."  
"Oh but you're the guest, it's on me, curtesy of Spider Silk."  
"Thank you." Viola cut off a piece and put it to her mouth; it was the sweetest thing she had ever tasted, not overpowering, only rich and smooth, the delicate taste of apricot melting on her tongue. The tea was much the same, a milky consistency of bland yet aromatic sweetness, a lilac tint framing the surface, and the faint smell of lavender.  
   
Viola let out a contented sigh, and Muffet looked on with an approving smile. "That's incredible Muffet. I believe I can honestly say I've never tried anything as good." Muffet sipped her tea with mock aloofness.  
"Well I mustn't brag, but I am incredibly talented, it's true."  
"You really like the colour purple don't you."  
"Of course, it's a colour of refinement. You can never have too much." _I'm not sure I entirely agree._ Viola thought. "Hmm...let me guess, you like amber best, yes?" Muffet asked, her eyes glimmering suspiciously, with amusement.  
"Yes! How did you know?"  
"Mm, I am a _very_ good judge of character sweetie."  
"Yeah...amber can't be used in dyes though, so I don't wear it." Suddenly, there was a clatter from the back room, and a collection of surprised hisses.   
"What _are_ you doing in there?" Muffet tutted. "Do excuse me." She got to her feet and started to walk across the room, when she tripped over Viola's foot, slamming her elbow against the counter before falling flat on the floor. The soft 'whumph' of fabric hitting the ground was quickly followed suit by the clatter of Muffet's mask, skittering off her head and into the corner of the room. "Oh! I'm terribly sorry!" Viola pulled herself up and crouched beside Muffet, holding her arm in an effort to bring her upright.  
   
Muffet let out a sigh, brushing the hair back from her face. "Such a pity, you really are a charming young thing." She turned her face up towards Viola, and she recoiled in shock, stumbling over her skirts in an effort to escape. She was met with no less than five large oval eyes, inky black and glistening with moisture. Muffet's expression remained calm as anything, although her brow creased in disappointment. "I liked you dearie, honestly I did. Please don't take this personally."  
"Wha...what are you?" Viola whispered in horror, backing up right to the wall, before she realised she had nowhere else to go.   
"I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell you. I'm a monster honey, long forgotten by your people." As she moved, Viola watched two pairs of arms fold out the back of her dress where the cloth had been concealing them, assisting her up onto her feet without a pause. This woman was a creature akin to a giant spider, and a shudder ran through Viola at the thought. Cool as anything, Muffet strode across to the window and pulled a pair of flower embroidered curtains across the glass, flipping the sign on the door to 'closed'. "At least you won't go to waste, I'm sure my cluster* will find you perfectly delicious." Her voice was disturbingly nonchalant, as though she was discussing something as simple as the weather.  
   
Viola glanced hurriedly around the room for an escape, stepping over to the back door and pulling it aside. "I wouldn't do that if I were you dearie~." Muffet mused. Viola stifled a shriek of surprise as she gazed beyond. The baking room was filled to bursting with tennis ball-sized purple spiders, scurrying across the walls or hoisting trays of pastries on their backs. They froze in their work as she opened the door, and hissed in surprise, responding in much the same way as she did as they piled over each other in an effort to hide in the various shelves, cupboards, and baking tins. Viola turned on her heel and looked on fearfully at Muffet as she leisurely stepped towards her. "I...it's alright Muffet! Honestly." She carefully pulled the door shut, and clutched her hands to her sides. She couldn't say she wasn't scared, the many armed woman before her had been disarmingly threatening from the start; but now the flurry of questions coupled with jittery panic at what Muffet was planning to do next had left Viola's brain distracted, and she found herself unsure of how to tackle the unprecedented situation. "Sorry honey, begging won't change anything." Muffet pulled out a length of the same shimmery thread that hung from the ceiling, that Viola now gathered was in fact heavily strengthened spider thread, and pulled it tight between her fingers. "If you don't struggle I can make it quick for you, okay sweetie?" No, apparently talking wouldn't sway her.   
"But why do you want to kill me?" Viola asked, trying to keep her voice from cracking.   
"I don't _want_ to, it's simply that I have to. Can't trust a human even for all the money you give them, especially when they feel threatened." She spoke so matter-of-factly that Viola almost didn't believe she was serious, but the hungry look in her eyes said it all. She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, and stepped forward towards her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Congou is the old name for traditional English Breakfast tea.  
> Yes, all the teas listed above are real popular Victorian teas.  
> Souchong is a rare and expensive tea that only high class or royalty drank in the Victorian era. The more you know. ^^
> 
> *A cluster is the name for a group of spiders.


	11. Quiet Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh heavens, what does she want from me I wonder?

Viola braced herself as Muffet grabbed her arms, trying to push them up above her head. As she tried to resist, the odd part of her brain came to the conclusion that this was the second time that week that she had been pinned down in a vulnerable position. "Oof..." Learning from last time, Viola struck out at Muffet's stomach, knocking her back a little ways, although her grip remained strong. "Quite a feisty one for being so delicate." She commented, a little breathlessly. She was one to talk, being only a little taller than Sans, and having extremely thin limbs. However, having the extra arms put Viola at a serious disadvantage, and before long she felt the fight being sapped out of her.  
   
Muffet let out an almost inaudible little giggle, and the sound from Viola's mouth stopped dead at her lips, as she saw the small but finely pointed fangs that made up her grin. Yanking her back from the wall, Muffet scrabbled to pull the silvery thread around Viola's neck, but she pulled away, tripping over her feet and slamming her hip against the wall. Unable to stop herself with her hands pinned, Viola tumbled backwards onto the floor, pulling the smaller girl down with her. The wind was knocked from her lungs, and she gasped. Muffet brought herself up until she was lying her whole weight across Viola's torso, and hunched down over her, her eyes glinting, the chord pinched delicately between the fingers of her second set of hands. "Got you~" She leaned in close, her forehead inches from Viola's. She caught the scent of lavender and herbs, and let herself fall still as the silvery thread pressed against her neck, just loose enough not to tear her skin. "Muffet." She breathed. "Please listen to me." Her voice was quiet, but unwavering; she had gone beyond fear now, and her body was cold. Muffet's eyes narrowed, and something seemed to give her pause, although she remained poised, the chord harsh like cheese wire. Viola continued without awaiting a response. "I don't know if she's one of you, but I've already met a monster. A rabbit, her name was Caramel. I'm already aware of your existence." Muffet pushed her hair back, and put a finger to her lips, still grinning.   
"Oh? How do I know you aren't lying to me?" Her voice was light, and she seemed to be enjoying herself far more than was appropriate.   
"You don't. You're just going to have to take my word."  
"Hmmm....how about, a deal?" There was a vicious glint to her eyes, disarming.   
"What...what kind of deal?" The thread pressed down ever so slightly, producing a sting, and a warm prickling sensation.   
"Let's say, you owe me a favour. Does that sound agreeable, my sweet?" Muffet's nose was inches from Viola's, and she giggled as she felt the breath wobble from her mouth.   
"Yes." She whispered. Viola wasn't entirely sure what she had just agreed to, but it gave her a sinking feeling. _Never_ be indebted to anyone, a piece of advice she had been told once or twice; and now she was, and there was nothing she could do about it.  
   
"Very well honey, I believe you." Muffet moved away from her face, lessening her hold slightly, enough to retract the thread. It was dyed a delicate red from Viola's blood, and she watched, horrified, as Muffet carefully licked it away. "Hm, not bad." She winked two of her eyes with a grin. "I'm sure you will be _very_ valuable to me." There was a sudden strange noise from the back room, like an explosion played in reverse, followed by a familiar voice.   
"Hey Muffet, I got'cha some-" The door swung forward, revealing the red and black clothed form of Sans. His eyes came to rest on the two of them lying on the floor, and for a moment he simply stared, gaze locked with Viola, both looking as startled as each other. He let out a little embarrassed cough, and retreated back into the room, muttering. "Sorry for interuptin'." Muffet burst out laughing, and reached for the door handle.   
"No you don't!" Viola, red creeping into her cheeks, struggled to her feet and brushed down her skirts.  
  
  
  
"How about I make you some more tea my dear? Yours went cold." Muffet had refitted the mask and opened up the curtains, busily setting out chocolates and cupcakes behind the counter. Viola nodded.   
"Yes, thank you." She was sat back in her seat, now facing Sans, and an awkward air had formed between them. She touched the now staunched mark on her neck, wondering how she would explain such a surgical wound to her mother.   
"Well kid, I uh, didn't take you for a spider person. Guess you'll be **hanging** around." Her eyes flicked up in surprise, and she felt herself heating up again.   
"I...I'm not." She clasped her hands together in her lap, and kept her head low. Sans blinked, and his brow raised in surprise. He averted his gaze, instead turning towards Muffet with a questioning look, who smiled.   
"Looks like you're losing your touch Sans." She put a hand on Viola's shoulder. "He's only joking honey, nothing to worry about."  
"Oh." Viola looked up, and brightened a little. She let out a chuckle. "I understand, hanging." The tea was set in front of her, and she took a thoughtful sip.   
"Hey Muffet." Sans asked, a lazy humour to his voice, a tone Viola hadn't heard on him before.   
"What is it sweetie?" Muffet leaned over the counter, her head cocked in mockery.   
"What did one spider say to the other?"  
"Why don't you tell me?" Her tone was patronising, and slightly sarcastic.  
"Time's fun when you're having flies." Viola nearly coughed on her tea at the utter failure of a joke, a smile catching her lips before she could stop it. Muffet rolled her eyes, but her smile was knowing.   
"Very good."  
"Why do black widows kill their mates?" This time there was a glint of something all the more threatening in her eye.   
"Why?" She asked, quietly.   
"Because they stop the snoring before it starts." She giggled.  
"Oh but that's so untrue." She stepped forward and ran a hand up Sans' arm, slowly, purposefully, before resting it on his shoulder. Viola watched him visibly shrink at her touch, and his eyes grew distressed. She almost felt the need to ask Muffet to stop, he looked so very uncomfortable. She leaned in close, and her voice was low. "They kill them because they don't give them their money." Her last words came out as a hiss, and Sans shivered in response. Muffet lingered just long enough to make him look like he wanted to escape, and then retracted her hand, the most gleeful smile on her face. Something told Viola the two were good friends, although definitely led by Muffet in terms of control.  
   
"So bone-boy, what's it going to be?" She tapped her nails against the tabletop, still leering. That time Viola really did choke on her tea, spluttering despite herself, and quickly reached for her handkerchief. Never in her life had she heard such a volatile term spoken in her presence; as a young single lady, no inappropriate themes were to be spoken of around her, not until she was safely married. Muffet's aloof nature suited her well, but Viola would never have guessed her and Sans to be so openly intimate. It had never crossed her mind that they even had such a relationship. Stealing a glance at Sans, Viola noticed he seemed to be just as alarmed as she was, and gave Muffet a warning glare. She simply tossed her hair in response.  
   
"I have your money." All humour had evaporated from his voice now, and he fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a large and neatly taped stack of notes. Muffet practically grabbed it from his hands, and leafed through with a scrutinising eye, before grinning. "Why thank you honey, I'll **treasure** it." She placed the notes somewhere in the folds of her dress, and walked back into the baking room. Viola cleared her throat, and carefully placed the tea cup back on the saucer.   
"It's...a surprise that you know each other. Quite a coincidence." Sans huffed.  
"Yeah, well."  
"You seem close, have you known each other for long?" A small smile creased the mask.   
"I suppose. She isn't that approachable but, y'know. I can live." Something about his speech was different from usual, more expressive, softer, his posture more relaxed. He was talking more as well, maybe it was because he wasn't alone with her, or out in the streets. His eyes were still as wary as ever, and his speech wasn't particularly kind, but Viola smiled to herself; she wanted to be friends with this magician, he was fascinating. "Yes, she's...a little too open in her affection though." Viola commented. Sans responded with his dry one note laugh. "Heh. No kid, she didn't mean it like that." She gave him a questioning look, but he only shook his head. "You wouldn't understand." She raised her eyebrows, that was the second time he had dismissed her.  
   
"Ahem!" Muffet cut in, closing the door behind her. She held a round patchwork blue box in her hands, tied up with a purple bow. "Here you are, everything your mother ordered." She placed it in Viola's lap, and brushed her hair back with a dramatic gesture. "I hope I didn't keep you too long? She must be worried for you." Viola shook her head, and carefully got to her feet.   
"No no, I'm sure it'll be fine. Thank you kindly." Muffet looked a little surprised at her politeness.   
"Well I never, the lady has manners! Even after what I did to you." She ran a hand gently over her cheek, the velvet cooling her skin. "You could learn a thing or two from this one, bone-boy." Sans let out a sigh, and looked away. "Heading home now my pet?"  
"Actually no. I, have a small favour to ask." Viola looked over at Sans, the slight concern at his response hinting in her face. "Could you perhaps tell me where Caramel lives? I promised her food and..." She picked up the basket of supplies and cast her eyes to the floor, not particularly wanting Sans' intense stare upon her. But his look was one of confusion, and once faced by a threatening glare from Muffet, he resigned. "Fine. I'll take you there."  
"Pardon? I, you don't have to, I mean..." But he didn't wait for her excuses, dusting off his waistcoat, and heading out the door.   
"Have a wonderful time!" Muffet called as she hurried out after him.  
  
  
  
The streets weren't as busy that day, and Viola walked along behind Sans with relative ease. She noticed people glancing to watch him pass, their eyes a mixture of curiosity and fear. His mask was suspicious to be sure, but she assumed his face would draw more attention, probably being a well known magician and all. "Thank you." She muttered, feeling like a broken record.  
"I's no problem." Sans murmured back. He paused for a moment, and seemed to want to ask something, but he kept his mouth shut.   
"I hope Caramel is there."  
"She will be." His answers were just as blunt as last time, but he replied immediately, as though he was actually paying attention.   
"I worry. I don't want her to get into trouble." Viola said, sighing a little.  
"Why?" Sans asked.  
"I, I don't know..." She was silent for a moment. "I think I just feel that I need to protect her. She's so small and vulnerable."  
"How'd you know that? You've only just heard 'bout monsters." Viola huffed.  
"I don't know Sans, it's just how I feel!" Her response was a little sharp. _Just because you know all about it and I don't._ He chuckled at her exasperation.  
"Relax kid, I understand." He put a hand to his head, as if in pain. "It's difficult. They could get noticed at any point, an' get put back out in the streets."  
"Are there many of them?" Viola asked.  
"Sorry, can't tell you that." She rolled her eyes, but she knew that was how it was. "Would you listen if I told you not to get involved?" Sans questioned.  
"As a magician, I would acknowledge your request as someone of a higher status, but I'm afraid I would have to disobey."  
"Oh well." He grinned, unfeeling. "Don't blame me if things get  **monstrous** , kay?"  
"You have my word." Viola replied with a smile.  
   
The two approached an alley, boxes and rubbish bags piled in dumpsters along the side. "Mel, you here?" Sans called. The little creature stepped out from behind one of the dumpsters, her ears twitching expectantly.   
"Hello Sans. Viola! You came!" Her excitement was undeniable, and gave Viola a warm feeling in her chest. She placed the basket on the ground, and stroked one of Mel's ears.   
"Here you are. I'm sorry I didn't pack many foods a rabbit likes, I wasn't sure how much of it you could eat."  
"It's okay, we aren't like normal rabbits. Thank you very much." She padded up to Viola's leg and hugged it, before pulling the basket back into the alley. "I'll give this to mama, she'll know what to do."  
"Okay sweetheart, I'll see you again soon alright?" Viola answered.  
"Yeah! Thank you again." She slowly walked off into the shadows, dragging the basket with her. Sans seemed to inspect Viola's giddy smile as she turned to face him, and looked to be contemplating something. "Is...there something the matter?" She asked.  
"Oh, uh, no. It's no problem." He gave her a nod. "Just, wonderin' why you care."  
"Why shouldn't I care? She needed my help."  
"Yeah..." He didn't look convinced.  
"Well, you may not care for monsters, but I do!"  
"Huh?" He looked surprised at her conviction, and for a moment struggled to find the right words, being very taken aback by her statement. "Uhh, n-no. I mean, course I care. I'm a magician, y'know." He put a hand on his brow and smiled sadly, before clearing his throat. "Anyway, c'mon, you should go home."  
"Oh, um...forgive me." Viola answered, gathering she had stepped out of line with her words. Nodding, she started to walk back down the street, leaving Sans standing at the end of the road. She gave him a wave as she turned away, and although she didn't see it, he raised his hand a little ways in response.

 


	12. Stuck in Your Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wish I had a real instrument...

He was there again the next day. The night air was chilling, but the girl sat out under the stars. She was tapping away at her bottle instrument, a thoughtful look in her eye. There was a song stuck in her head, or rather, the beginnings of a song; a collection of fragmented medley that was cemented so forcefully in her mind that it felt like a pike being jammed into her skull. But she was stuck, and it frustrated her. Picking up a rock from the pavement, she scraped the letters of the main melody into the wall of the alley, before playing them out on the bottles. EDE B A BD BB...and then what? She couldn't remember. Where had she even heard it before? It was such a precise tune that she couldn't possibly have made it up from her own head. The whole process flared up a frustration so great that it made her head spin.  
   
Tutting, she threw the stick away from her, watching it skitter across the ground with a low D clack. For a moment she sat there mystified, staring down at her hand. When was the last time she had felt such raw emotion? It startled her to feel so out of control. Slowly, she moved from a sit onto her hands and knees, reaching out for the stick. As she picked it up, she happened to glance down the alley, only to see the small outline of the skeleton staring back at her. She froze, her fight-or-flight response tingling on the back of her neck. Upon the realisation that she saw him, the skeleton straightened up, and tentatively stepped forward. The girl remained utterly still as he approached, very aware of the damage he could do if she appeared threatening; putting her head down, she slumped into the most submissive position possible, although she kept her eyes up and trained, she would not appear afraid.   
   
There was a certain aloofness to the way the skeleton moved, and a lit cigar was clenched between his teeth, the red glow spouting smoke into the air behind him. Eventually, he stood no more than two metres from her, the white pupils lighting up his face with an eerie glow, spectral almost. She met those eyes as they looked down upon her, unreadable. _What do you want from me?_ She wanted to ask, but she kept her mouth shut; as far as she could recall, it had been about a year since she had spoken to anyone directly, that wasn't about to change. The skeleton remained silent as well, his pupils quivering with some kind of sadness, as though she was hurtful to look at.   
   
She flinched as he lifted a hand into his pocket, her shoulder blades tensing like that of a cat. He paused as he saw this, but only shook his head slightly, as if to reassure her, before pulling out a box. He carefully placed it on the ground at his feet, and removed the lid. A smell filled the air that hit the girl like a shockwave, it was...amazing. Some kind of sandwich was in there, filled with all manner of ingredients, as well as what looked like a cupcake. Her gut twisted painfully, and she involuntarily convulsed, the food all too enticing for her to resist. However, she did nothing; her starved body was in need, but she would rather die slowly than face whatever substance was in this meal, it was too perfect not to be poisoned. The skeleton watched her, and pushed the box forward with his boot. "Eat." He whispered, as though talking to a frightened animal. Though there was a certain amount of sincerity to the word, she couldn't just trust a ganger, and a monster at that. He backed off after a moment, and, pausing to let the smoke seep through his teeth, he made his way out of the alley. He looked back as he got to the end of the street, before moving out of view.   
The girl looked back at the box, her stomach screeching a demand to eat, but she refused. Shuffling back under the blanket of the den, she curled her arms around her knees, and continued tapping on the bottles, trying her best to distract herself from the almost heavenly scent.  
The next day, the box remained untouched.

 


	13. You Will be Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope she is a friend you can rely on.

This was it, the final moment. A small depreciating smile creased Viola’s cheeks as she realised such a mediocre decision was the biggest problem she faced. The two dresses were laid out on her bed, and she frowned as she gazed down at them. Clara stood at her side, her brows turned up in concern. “Viola?” The tone of her voice lifted in a questioning manner, gently prodding her to make a decision. “The countess wants us prepared by 5 o'clock at the latest. I don't mean to rush you but…” Viola raised a hand without turning her way. “I know I know, just, give me a moment.” She stared at the mixture of fabric, as though willing it to present her an answer. The gown was made of many furling layers of cloth, spilling out from the waist in a traditional bell shape. The colour reminded Viola of an opal, a blended mixture of delicate blue, pink and pale green. It wasn't the worst thing in the world, far from it, the corset section buckled in silver at the back, and form-fitting to perfection. The evening wear black dress was quite unusual in comparison, the simple green and blue sash being the only feature to the waist; the shapeless hem fell right to the floor, and clung flatteringly in all the right places. It truly was a new generation of style, and the one Viola preferred. She sighed, catching Clara’s eyes, and she knew she could tell what was on her mind. “Maybe…choose what you think would be practical as a member of this household? That is who you're representing.” Her words were quiet, for she knew as well as Viola did what was right. “Okay then.” She picked up the opal gown and handed it to Clara, clearing all doubt from her mind. Maybe it wasn't what she wanted, but it wasn't terrible. She wanted to represent her family well, and if that meant not choosing for herself, she could do that just fine. The reserved but undeniably pleased smile on Lilliane’s face when she saw the finished spectacle was more than enough gratification. “What did I tell you? I said we would make you perfect.” She placed both hands on Viola’s shoulders, and planted a kiss upon her forehead. “You are my beautiful daughter Viola, we’ll make something of you yet.” Viola hoped quietly to herself that the party wouldn't be too much for her to handle. She didn't want to let anyone down.

~~♬~~

  
Grillby stood silently in the kitchen, delicately drying the last of the crockery from the days work. His eyes narrowed wearily as he noticed a crack along the edge of the plate he held, but there was little to be done. Since they had entered the surface world, there had been a lot of compromises, but monsters were adaptable. He would manage. There was the faintest of noise from outside, and his eyes lifted to focus on the doorway. The whole bar was darkened, the lights all turned out apart from the few candles Grillby had set out on the main counter. The light he could see wavered sporadically as something moved past it, and then he recognised a familiar sigh, quiet and troubled, but not heavy enough to encroach on others. He turned back to the task at hand, the sliding of cloth against damp glaze producing a squeak. This was how they operated, in a way only old friends can; if he wanted to talk, he would wait as long as Grillby needed him to.  
   
Placing the last glass into the respective cupboard, the fire spirit made his way slowly out of the back room, taking all light with him. The small figure sitting at the bar was the only sign of life, and he fit so perfectly that he almost wasn't there at all; the usual seat too, the end of the table, before it right-angled off into the wall. Wringing out a damp cloth between his fingers, Grillby set about wiping down the countertop, the silence being a comfortable part of the evening, a welcome friend to him. Sans didn't look up as he passed, arms folded across the table in a slouch, a single boney finger tapping against the plastic. Now that made a change, it had been a while since Grillby had seen Sans with such body language, and it concerned him greatly. Reaching under the counter, he brought out a single bottle of ketchup and placed it gently beside him. He began wiping the surface, the wet gleam shining every time he moved, following the glow from his hands and imitating its delicate dance and flow. Each motion he made was precise, a clear indication of his experience, and his care.  
   
“Glass today huh, what's the special occasion?” Sans tried to sound humoured, but it was false today, even more so than usual.  
“You tell me.” Grillby replied, his voice a quiet unwavering hum, perfectly meditated and calm. He never had been the one to speak first.  
“Oh you know…the usual.” They lapsed into silence once again. Grillby had never questioned Sans’ method of conversation, although he understood it very well. He had never been inclined to share stories about himself, no matter how severe they were, but even he had a breaking point. Grillby was that point, when his burdens became too heavy Sans would talk, but it took him a while to ever put how he felt into words. In truth Grillby had no way of knowing how many times Sans had confided in him, for he did not remember half of them, the resets setting them back every time, but the sentiment remained. That was the thing about Grillby, he wasn't a talker, but it was very clear that he cared; no matter what he did, he did it with grace, and a kind of delicacy used only with the fondest of intentions.  
   
“I'm tired Grillb’.” Sans began. “The headaches have been worse lately.”  
“That isn’t unusual.” Grillby prodded, his voice gentle. He wasn't indulgent on him, simply patient beyond measure. Sans unscrewed the cap on the ketchup and took a swig, his fingers clinking against the glass. The large gaps in his speech were evident, but not unexpected. “I’ve seen a ghost.” He continued after a pause, his voice barely a whisper.  
“In metaphor or truth?” Grillby manoeuvred around the counter where Sans sat, leaving a patch of dryness.  
“Both.” He replied, eyes dulled, hands clasped over his skull as he stared down at the table.  
“With what you've been doing, that doesn’t surprise me.” Grillby had turned away now, ducking to check on the beer pumps below. Sans’ pupils quivered slightly as he watched.  
“You know why I had to kill them.” There was a hard edge to his voice now.  
“Yes. But you had no proof of their fault.” Grillby lifted a hand to correct his glasses. “Not everyone is as trusting as I. It was messy, you could have handled it better.” Sans nodded slowly. Grillby finished cleaning and settled on the stool beside him, leaning his chin on a hand, supported at the elbow on the counter. To a bystander, the two of them would have looked comical, the elegance and posture of Grillby a perfect contrast to his slope-shouldered friend.  
   
Sans took another sip of his ‘drink’, staring at it as the ketchup slid down the sides. “It’s difficult to know what to do. Especially now.” Grillby nodded gently. He had been told of the resets now, as it was all over. After considering it he noticed he had always been aware, albeit very vaguely, a déjà vu of sorts; he was the only one Sans could possibly tell. “Nothing is set in stone.” There was an air of relief to Grillby’s statement, and the touch of a smile creased Sans’ eyes as he nodded in agreement. It was a tiny weight they both shared, and something for which Sans would be endlessly grateful; that finally, the fear of repeat was no longer pressing on his skull. “A good kid, our Frisk.” It didn't need to be said, but it felt good to acknowledge. The relationship between Frisk and Sans was hard to describe, and Grillby would never truly understand it. “Indeed. We are all equally grateful.” He replied.  
“At least they're with us now.” Sans said, letting out a sigh. _It could be much worse._ Grillby tilted his head questioningly, but didn't prod further, instead turning his head towards the rest of the shadowed bar.  
“So, this person you found, what are you planning to do about them?”  
“I don't know.” Grillby stared for a moment, causing Sans to break from his gaze. “Sh-she’s difficult to deal with okay? I'm not just, being lazy…”  
“A human.”  
“Yes.” The silence fell once again, a mantle that settled comfortably over them. Grillby spoke softly.  
“I don't mind.”  
“You know what the others would say. It was gonna be a hard won battle from the start but, who expected we would end up like this.” He pushed the ketchup bottle around on the tabletop. “They hate humans.”  
“And you don't?” Grillby asked. The bottle stopped moving, the nervous energy shifting to Sans’ fingers where they wrapped together.  
“Couldn't say.” He mumbled.  
“The girl wouldn't be a problem if you did.” Grillby continued.  
For a moment Sans became frustrated, almost angry. “I don't hate Vi-, the girl! I just don't know what to do about her.” His pupils flickered. “I don't want anyone involved.”  
“Then keep an eye on her, she needn’t get involved at all.” Grillby leaned forward. “Whatever you do, don't leave it. Your passiveness is a bad quality.” Sans nodded.  
“Maybe…” He glanced at Grillby for a moment, before noiselessly adding: “You'd get along with her.”  
“She must be strong willed to have kept your attention.”  
“Yeah…” Sans whispered, and Grillby caught a slight sense of melancholy as the sound drifted away, though he could not understand what it truly meant.  
   
“It’s late.” He got to his feet and blew out the candles, leaving one lit in case it was needed.  
“Go on buddy, I won’t keep ya.” Sans responded, returning to his half finished bottle. Grillby paused for a moment.  
“Do try to sleep Sans. You have the party infiltration tomorrow.” He responded only with his one syllable laugh, and Grillby moved off to the back of the room. He knew it was unlikely that Sans would sleep for a long time yet, but it was worth a try. After all, Grillby was one of the only people Sans would allow to worry about him, the rest, well, they didn't even know what pain he had learned to hide.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta love Grillby right?  
> He's just so fancy!


	14. Bloody Masquerade: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel I may be a little out of my depth...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY, please play this song once it is mentioned during the waltz section of the chapter  
> ->https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M17RKMRUfOs  
> I promise you won't regret it!!

Viola, as led by her mother, her arm hooked in hers, fitted the beautifully ornate eye mask over her nose; it was a delicate thing made with silver strands of metal, curving waves of filigree imitating lace spilled over her cheeks and tucked up around the corners of her eyes, a rich blue jewel cresting her forehead. She had also pulled a pair of long silk white gloves over her arms, a must for any formal occasion.  
  
The party was a grand affair, as much effort incorporated as with anything her society did, and nothing short of perfection. She was yet to know just why such lengths had been taken however. The Duke and his Duchess, the grand hosts, stood waiting to greet them at the door, the light streaming from inside positively glowing as it lit up the walkway. “My dear lady Countess, we are honoured to make your acquaintance.” The Duke began, and Lilliane proceeded to make the most sugary of exchanges possible. As with all pleasantries Viola had witnessed, there was enough sweetness present to kill a cat, and she dreaded to think of the day when she would have to join in. But as it was, she simply stooped into a curtesy, and kept her mouth shut. As she was led into the main ballroom, she took a moment to take in her surroundings. The ceiling was high and dipped in the centre, many stone beams supporting the main bulk, with a colossal glass chandelier in pride of place, far too blinding to look at for more than a few seconds. Long tables covered in draping white cloth lined the three walls, stacked high with a buffet of exotic meals, strings of white and gold lights hanging at intervals above; and most of all, the ballroom floor, glowing like the sun, ladies and gentlemen drifting across it as though imitating a group of rather strange-looking water birds. The orchestra was nestled in one of the back corners on a raised platform, playing a selection of smooth jazz, and creating a breezy and relaxed atmosphere.  
  
Viola could not have been more on edge. As she took a look at the people surrounding her, being sure not to let her gaze linger too long, she noticed just how many were above her station. Her family were personally rather high on the ‘ranking board*’ of status, her father being an Earl and therefore in charge of representing the governing king in the surrounding country towns. But many of these people held the crest of Marquess, and many more were Dukes, the rung below royalty. It wouldn't surprise her to know there were distant cousins of royalty here, some even knowing their rulers personally. How could she possibly match up to this? Lilliane patted her hand as she felt her grip tense. “Take it in stride my girl. You belong here too.” She murmured.  
“But how do you handle this kind of pressure?” Viola whispered back.  
“Years of experience. Just do as you've always done.” Ferrying her across the room, Lilliane settled Viola into the first available chair, out of the crowds, and gestured across the way. “Now that over there is Ernest, son of Duke Reymond, an esteemed figure. I shan't force you to choose anyone in particular, yet I suggest you allow a few dances?”  
“M-mother, I don't wish to be an upstart*.” Viola muttered, alarmed.  
“Of course not, but not all courtship has boundaries. Your father is in sport with the good Duke, it's an acceptable match.” Lilliane was off before Viola could react, and she took a breath to steady herself. At least dancing she was comfortable with, her instructor had always said how well-postured she could be. She took another look around the room, allowing her eyes to fall upon the well-groomed ladies of the masquerade; most dresses she saw were richly coloured in gold, blue or green, tight-fitting bodices and corsets in mostly black. Her outfit was unlike them, although fitting, far less traditional and pale in colour. Although not the youngest guest in attendance, she couldn't have been more than the third, and she knew no one. Of all the parties she had attended before, most of them were with friends, and less titles were thrown around. She couldn't be blamed for being out of her depth.  
   
Lilliane soon returned, towing a young man along behind her. His suit was of fine quality, and he had one of those mirthful faces that looked as though you could damage it easily. “This is the Duke’s son my dear.” She announced, nodding to her with encouragement. “Ernest Howard, my lady.” He bowed to her as she rose, and she curtseyed in return, silently cursing herself as she wobbled slightly on her feet.  
“I am charmed to meet you, Viola Thompson, daughter of Earl Robert.” She was greeted by a slightly bashful smile, and an open hand.  
“Would you honour me with your hand for a quadrille*?”  
“Of course my lord, it would be my pleasure.” She tried to shake off the nervousness gnawing at her chest, and grasped the hand as it led her away into the throng. Quadrilles were something she was good at, and although the sway of the music was not exactly to her liking, she managed perfectly well, allowing herself to be caught up, distracting from her self-consciousness. “Your skill in dance is beyond that of many my lady, I applaud you.”  
“And I would return it my lord.” Viola nodded along with the gushing statements, and settled back into her seat, now quite drained. “Would it trouble you if I requested a drink?” She asked.  
“Of course not, I shall return shortly.” A sigh escaped her as Ernest left her side, and although she couldn’t afford to slouch in her chair, she propped up her chin on a hand, and fumbled in her bag for her fan. _Left hand I should think._ The white cloth fluttered her hair a little, a clear indication to anyone nearby that she did not want company*, at least for the moment.  
   
Looking on through the crowd, Viola caught sight of a small figure, wearing a long white dress with black lace. The mask covering her face was black and white, slit down the middle where the colours divided; the strangely dark eyes that peered through were familiar, and as she locked with them, the woman gave her a big wink. What in heaven’s name was Muffet doing here? Viola considered getting up and approaching her, but she had no escort, and a lady alone on the ball floor was frowned upon. Not only that, but as she watched, Muffet was approached by a tall and extremely refined gentleman, who offered his hand. Unable to resist gawking, she saw Muffet turn and give her a little wave, before flouncing off. _Was that the grand Duke Richard? Surely not…_ The grand Duke was the main landowner for Ebott, and in charge of building and selling up; arguably one of the richest and powerful men in the country. She had little time to recover from her surprise, as Lilliane came bustling up to her, her cheeks giving off a pink radiance.  
“Viola!” She hissed in her ear. “Queen Catherine asked for you.” For a moment Viola wondered if she had in fact swallowed her tongue entirely, but then the words decided to reform on her lips.  
“The queen is here…?” She felt distant, like she was only half there. “Why?”  
“Straighten up girl!” Lilliane hurriedly helped her to her feet and brushed down her skirts, just as an escort approached them.  
“My lady Viola Thompson?” He asked cooly. Lilliane’s eyes were deadly.  
“Yes, I am she.” She responded, swallowing her fear in an effort not to stutter.  
“Her Majesty Queen Catherine has requested your presence, if you would please follow me.”  
“Of course.” To her surprise, Viola felt nothing. Anxiety was rocketing around in her chest, but her skin felt cold, and she brushed her hair back behind her ear to tidy it away. Keeping her eyes focussed on the floor, she made her way to the back of the room, and ducked low before the woman ensconced there. “Viola Thompson, daughter of Earl Robert, your majesty.” She hadn’t even caught sight of Catherine yet.  
“You may rise.” The voice that met her ears was calm and controlled, smooth as silver. Lifting herself up, Viola took a short look, before casting down her eyes politely. Catherine was a tall woman with long silky hair tied into a plait over her right shoulder, the colour of coals; her eyes were surprisingly small and squinted, an empty swathe of brown without any feeling within. The dress touched the ground, a long train spreading out across the floor; it was primarily white, the bodice and inside skirt being red. She looked upon Viola with a reserved interest, although her eyes seemed to now hold something darker, the edge of her pale face sharp and without warmth. “I make a point of ensuring I meet all young ladies at social gatherings. I do hope I didn’t surprise you.” Her voice held no mirth either, simply logical inflection.  
“Not at all your majesty.” Viola replied, trying to match her tone. Taking a quick glance over her shoulder, she noticed her mother’s eyes on her, a massively determined look on her face.  
“I know of your father, my husband Samuel has had many dealings with him.” Catherine commented, lifting a hand to adjust her hair. “ He is an asset.”  
“I thank you your majesty, it is an honour to hear you say so.” She glanced up, but Catherine did not meet her eye, unsurprisingly. A question surfaced in her mind, and she wondered if it was at all acceptable to ask. _Maybe not, but can I really be frowned on for a simple question?_ “May I inquire something?” This time Catherine did look at her, although she made sure not to hold her gaze.  
“You may.” Was that a hint of curiosity?  
“It was brought to my attention that the royal family are made up of magicians. Is that true?” Catherine remained silent for a moment, before a slight smile creased her face.  
“You are an astute young lady, indeed, your assumption is correct.”  
“Thank you.” Viola breathed out, unaware she had been holding it in.  
“However.” This time her tone held an icy quality. “I will tell you not to speak of it.” The atmosphere grew heavy, and Viola nodded quickly.  
“Of course your majesty.” She glanced around, trying to spot her mother through the crowd. “Well, thank you for asking of me, you honour me. I shan’t keep you.” Curtseying again, Viola slowly made her way off to the side of the room, leaning against the wall as she fanned her face again, hoping she didn’t look too flustered.  
   
Someone was watching her, she realised. Not watching, they were staring. Glancing up, she met eyes with a skeleton, or rather, the mask of one. For a moment she simply watched him, pensive, before he began walking towards her. The suit he wore didn't stand out much, the only intriguing detail was that it was entirely black, the whole of his head concealed by a black cloth wrapped around the front and tucked into his collar. The mask was white and blue, curling lines marking the forehead, and wrapping around the large gaping eye sockets; the jaw was bulky and set much wider than a normal person’s, a crooked grimace of blank teeth. In a moment the man was stood before her, apparently oblivious to the signalling of the fan in her left hand. The strangely dark eyes that peered out of the mask fixed her, and, looking rather uncomfortable, he held out a hand and addressed her. “Uh, would you, be willin’ to dance with me?” Viola was speechless. By performing that one, seemingly harmless gesture, this man had broken so many important social rules. He hadn't been introduced by a mutual friend, so he didn’t even have the right to _speak_ with her, or she had no right to approach him, depending on his status; he hadn't greeted her with formal address, didn't even mention his name, and his manner of asking her was extremely sloppy. As Viola glanced down at the offered hand, she noted another appalling factor: the gloves he wore were black, the exact opposite of what they should have been. The overwhelming absurdity of the situation prevented her from even responding, her mouth slightly open with the effort. “Good.” Without even awaiting a response, the stranger took hold of her wrist and pulled her away from the wall, out into the mass of couples preparing for the next dance. Viola found herself incapable of doing anything other than complying, and the only thing she managed to make sense of was that the next dance was a waltz, one of the simplest dances in the world for her to follow. _Thank goodness I won’t make a fool of myself._  
   
She reached out a hand and placed it on the gentleman’s shoulder, and to her surprise he visibly flinched for a moment, like he expected her to hurt him. Straightening himself up, he seemed to set his jaw in rigid determination, and touched his hand to her waist, so gently she could hardly feel it at all. If she didn’t know better, Viola would have said he was scared, and of what she couldn't fathom. As they moved off, she noticed she could see almost right over his head, and was struck with a suddenly contagious grin, for in that moment she realised exactly what was going on. She looked down into his eyes as she smiled, and the look he returned was one of great regret and apologies. “Sans.” She muttered.  
“…Yeah?” He asked, his voice quiet.  
“I hope you know I have many questions.”  
“I know.” She couldn’t help but chuckle at his blunt honesty, and the silliness of the whole affair.  
“If I didn’t know better I would think you didn’t know anything about our society at all.” His eyes dropped.  
“Maybe that’d be best.” He looked uncomfortable. “I'm uh, a little rusty. Not particularly well-taught I guess.” She tutted in mock disapproval, much like her mother would.  
“We can't have that. I'll have to teach you.”  
“Heh.” He didn't sound like he believed her. The song being played was The Gentle Waltz by Oscar Peterson, a very delicate piano piece with slow rhythm, and Viola smiled as the pleasing tones washed over her. She had a strange connection to piano music, the effect of hearing it never failed to give her shivers. “I should learn to play this.” She commented idly.  
“You play?” Sans sounded surprised.  
“Of course I do. I love the piano.”  
“Huh.” He simply nodded.  
“You aren’t good at small talk are you? If I may say so.” She sighed. “What are you even doing here?”  
“Can’t tell you that.”  
“Of course you can’t.” He seemed to pick up on the exasperated tone in her voice, and glanced up morosely.  
“Sorry for, dragging you into this.” As normal, she immediately regretted her words.  
“Forgive me, it’s not my place to ask your business.” She replied quietly.  
“No it’s…okay.” Sans whispered. “I never wanted humans involved, especially ones like you.”  
“What if- what if I said I wanted to be involved?” She asked.  
“You can’t.” He replied, stoic this time.  
“…You aren’t being fair.” She kept her voice soft, not wanting to offend him. “If you didn’t want me to know then why didn’t you stop me sooner?” He was quiet for a moment.  
“I tried to.”  
“You could have tried harder.” Viola couldn’t help but bite back.  
“I know.” He growled. She was right, and her comment stirred up unpleasant memories, of the times when he stepped in, when it was too late to save anyone. His eyes were on her, and she shivered under the burning gaze, fearful once again. Quickly Sans caught himself and looked away, she didn’t deserve his anger, not when she was so ignorant of everything. “Sorry-“ They both began, before a smile lit up Viola’s face. Now they were both repeating themselves, and Sans matched her smile with a fake one of his own, though she had no way of seeing it. Viola shook her head. “I won’t ask anything more unless I have to.”  
“Okay.”  
“But! You have to promise you won’t drag me into unexplained situations either.” Sans chuckled.  
“You have my word, though I, I don’t make promises.” Viola huffed to herself.   
“Well, that'll have to do then won’t it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The ranking of status within Victorian society starts with the highest: Duke, Marquess, Earl, Viscount, Baron, Baronet, Knight. And so Viola is comfortably mid upperclass, her father being an Earl.  
> *An upstart is someone who marries someone above their social status.  
> *A quadrille is a slightly complex form of dance that includes four couples. Here is a good example of that  
> ->https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YHhMvu_9r6U  
> *The language of the fan is a complex one in victorian society, and having a fan in one's left hand indicates to all others that you don't want to be approached. Pretty useful huh? ^^
> 
> Sans the skeleton is wearing the mask of a skeleton to prevent himself from being recognised as a skeleton. What a shitlord.


	15. Bloody Masquerade: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well now my dress is ruined!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Warnings for those who want them are posted at the end of the chapter*, however they are a little spoilery so only check if you're a lil more sensitive. ^^

Sans became distracted by the end of the waltz, and although he left quickly, at least he didn’t abandon Viola right away. “I’ve got some things to do.” He said, gazing off into the crowd, as though looking for someone.  
“Wait a moment. Why did you want to dance with me anyway?” Viola asked. They weren’t friends quite yet, so it wasn’t as though he had any real reason to.  
“I needed to keep an eye on someone.”  
“So you used me.” Viola smiled sourly, but she didn’t really mind.  
“I…uh.” He looked suddenly very flustered, and she considered that he didn’t seem to be the type to lie; after all, he had never failed to tell her when there was something she couldn’t know. Out the corner of her eye, she noticed her mother making a beeline towards them, and her stomach did a flip-flop at the thought of having to explain what she was doing. She waved Sans off hurriedly. “I don’t mind Sans, just, do what you have to.” He still looked unsure. “Do enjoy the rest of the party.” She added with a smile. He seemed bitter as he responded: “Yeah, you too,” and promptly moved off into the throng.  
   
Lilliane looked less than pleased as she reached Viola’s side, her eyes flitting around the room for any sign of Sans, but he was long gone. She turned to face her, arms folded and face expectant. Viola wetted her lips, her mind racing to come up with excuses. “May I be so bold as to ask, who was that?” She was using her no-nonsense voice again.  
“No one mother.” Viola answered hastily. “No one at all.”  
“And I suppose that nobody you _danced_ with was a figment of my imagination yes?” Viola looked down in shame.  
“He’s just, someone I’m acquainted with.”  
“Then why don’t I know him Viola?” Her voice was quiet but angered. Viola realised she was becoming slightly heated herself, why should she be blamed for spending time with someone? She wasn’t doing any harm.  
“One of my friends introduced him to me mother! I shouldn’t need your permission for everyone I speak to.” She hissed; technically, she wasn’t lying either, he was partnered with Muffet after all. Lilliane frowned at her response, but laid off, neither of them liked arguing. “Very well. You must understand that it is my duty to be attentive of all men you acquaint with.” She adjusted a lock of her perfectly curled hair as she spoke, gently this time. “Especially one that can make my only daughter smile in such a way.”  
“Pardon?” Viola was taken aback by that. Yes, Sans did make her smile, but only because of his absurd actions. If her mother was suggesting what she thought she was, the situation was entirely different.  
“You understand me girl, with options as few as yours, opportunities can’t be missed.”  
“Mother, no, that’s not okay. He’s not-“  
“In any case I must meet him. What’s his name?” Lilliane cut her off, clearly weighing up her own opinion without her input.  
“Sans.” Viola replied, a tone of irritation in her voice.  
“I can’t say I’ve heard such a name, how unusual. His family name?”  
“I don’t know it.” Lilliane tutted.  
“Well that isn’t very polite.”  
“He has his reasons.” Viola grumbled. _There’s no way I’m telling her Sans is a magician, his family name is probably related to royalty._ Although he never acted like royalty, now that she thought about it; Queen Catherine had told her magicians are all royalty, or was it that all royalty are magicians? Could there be magicians that lived outside of the royal family? There must be, Sans wouldn’t allow her to speak the way she did otherwise. “Alright my girl, go on and find him, it’s high time we had a formal introduction.” Lilliane said busily.  
“You mean, right now?”  
“Yes! Go on now.” Before she could protest, Viola was practically shooed off by her mother into the mass of other party-goers. She shook her head in exhaustion, once Lilliane decided something, that was that. She would have to explain to Sans what was going on, and teach him how to give a formal introduction if he didn't know. This was hopeless, a completely unnecessary endeavour. _For goodness sake._  
   
There was no sign of Sans in the ballroom, so Viola took the opportunity to step outside into the main hall. There were a few people out there, most of them standing beside the open door or just outside, causally smoking. Stepping out onto the darkened lawn, Viola cast around. He wasn't there either. She heard a quietened giggle from around the wall, which she soon recognised as Muffet, and peered around it expectantly. There she was, leaning flirtatiously against the building, beside the grand duke. They were standing almost inappropriately close together, like a couple of school children sharing petty secrets, and Viola’s eyebrows raised. “Ahem.” She commented, causing Muffet to turn in her direction, mask still firmly in place, thank goodness.  
“Yes my sweet?” She asked, as nonchalant as anything. The Duke Richard looked at her sheepishly, as was the correct response.  
“Have you seen Sans?”  
“I’m afraid not honey, have you tried the lounge room? We were there not too long ago.” Viola nodded, but couldn't help adding:  
“Is Sans aware of what you're doing?” She frowned, for she couldn’t help but be appalled by Muffet’s adulterous behaviour. She, however, waved a hand dismissively.  
“Sans needn’t know anything dearie. Now go on.” She turned away and muttered something to the Duke, who laughed nervously. Viola clicked her tongue, she had underestimated Muffet. What kind of family did she come from to have such little regard for social normality? She couldn’t understand it. However, brushing off the thought, she headed back inside, it wouldn’t do to keep her mother waiting.  
   
Carefully and quietly, Viola pushed open the heavy wooden door to the lounge room and peered through. There didn’t appear to be anyone inside. The room was enclosed, the curtains drawn, and the collection of sofas and fabric chairs in soft warm colours gave it a cosy atmosphere. She could hear almost nothing of the ball outside, and after a moment a cloyingly metallic smell invaded her senses. It wasn't something she had ever come across, and felt very out of place. Cautiously, she stepped further into the room, and moved around the end of the sofa nearest the door, allowing her a clear view of the floor.  
   
There, dumped on the ground like a forgotten doll, was a man; his suit was finely tailored in gold and white patterns, the intricate vines and flowers tinted a deep red by the blood that pooled around the body and soaked into the woollen carpet. For a few moments she simply stared at the sight before her, perhaps intrigued, for this was something she had never witnessed. The air was sucked heavily into her lungs as she reeled in shock, before rushing forward. She skidded onto the carpet and kneeled beside the man, desperately pulling at his shoulders to bring him up from where he lay, face down on the floor. The act caused blood to ooze afresh, and she flinched as she saw the wound, a hole about two inches across, straight through the heart. Although terribly disturbed by the stench and viscera, Viola didn’t hesitate, dragging the man as best she could onto his back, and holding her hands over the damage. By this point her dress was ruined, the pressure her knees made on the carpet released the thick fluids already absorbed, which instantly stained the pale fabric right the way across. Her gloves were doing a fine job of mopping up the blood right to the elbow, and she was too dazed to notice. All she could hear was the swell of breathing in her ears, and the pulse in her temples. For a few moments she had the desperate urge to scream, but it was forced away by the direness of the situation. She needed to try and save him first, then she could indulge in the horrors of it all. Although the body was still warm, the blood smooth and uncongealed, the telltale signs of life were long gone. “No no, no come on.” She kept feeling around his wrist for a pulse, but of course his heart was completely bust now, there was nothing left. Viola began to shake a little as the adrenaline left her, and now she could feel the blood on her hands; slick and cold, the smell tingling a gag reflex in the back of her throat. It was stuck to her skin and wouldn’t come off. She stared down at the crimson gloves, unable to breathe.  
   
Then someone put a hand on her shoulder, yanking her back to her senses. She turned her head to look into the black pits of Sans’ eyes, and relief rushed over her. “Wh-what are you doing?!” He stumbled over his words in the effort to get them out, his voice strained with alarm. “Helping…” She whispered. Without saying another word, Sans took both her hands and helped her up off the floor. There was a wild blue and yellow flicker of light, a sudden jolt, and then a moment where Viola honestly believed her organs were no longer in her torso. The cold night air hit her face, and she gasped as she stumbled over the hard pavement beneath her. Sans hovered a hand next to her shoulder as she re-righted herself, but withdrew when he saw she wasn't going to fall over. She stared at him wordlessly, too many thoughts fighting for space for her to speak. Sans looked back with great concern at her lost expression. He frowned in a conflicted manner, and hesitantly offered a hand. “C’mon kid.” Viola shook her head slightly. Of all the irrational thoughts to surface, the first one was that she didn’t want to bloody his hand with hers; but he ignored her denial, taking her left hand from her side, and turning down the nearest street. All she could do was follow blindly.  
  
  
  
The two came upon a sewer duct entrance alongside the end wall of the high quarter. It sat off the road, dipping below the level of the street in a semicircle, the pavement becoming the ceiling of the circular tunnel beyond a large metal gate, from which water trickled out. Sans stepped down into the shadow of the structure and gestured to the lip of the tunnel, where a small ledge jutted out. Viola slumped down against it, her back to the cold bars, shaking uncontrollably. Though she felt no fear, and now the air had cleared her head enough to gather her thoughts into a logical order. “Why did you do that?” Sans asked, his voice the gentlest she had ever heard it. He chuckled bitterly. “If you’d called for help no one would’ve suspected you…”  
“That wouldn’t have helped him.” Viola replied, her voice steely and calm. Then she realised it didn’t matter, the man was dead. She started to cry, the empathy welling up in her chest as she considered what his family would think. Sans looked uncomfortable, but not because of her tears, because he simply didn’t know how to respond to them, or how to make them stop. “Why are you crying…?”  
“He’s dead. He’s dead and I couldn’t do anything.” She went to put her hands to her face, before realising they were covered in blood; she hastily pulled off the gloves, anger taking over. “I bet he had family.” She murmured bitterly.  
“…Oh.” Sans said, and he turned away from her, his feet shifting a little. A thought crept up into Viola’s mind, an ugly thought that wormed deep and refused to go away. She stared at Sans’ profile, and decided to press the matter.  
“Where were you? Why did you take me away?”  
“They would’ve thought you were the culprit.”  
“And how do you know I wasn't?” She demanded. The look Sans gave her was unreadable behind the mask, but she could tell it was one of guilt, and also hurt. She looked down. “I take that back…” She muttered. She already knew the answer: that he knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t do such a thing. “Why were you at the party…?” She asked again, more like a question to the air than to Sans. A silence fell, and Viola shuddered, the thin and now wet dress doing nothing to keep out the cold. “Why did you save me the first time?” This was a question that had been nagging Viola for a long time, and although the moment was by no means appropriate, her exhaustion was forcing her mind to put all problems to rest. Sans gave her a bemused look behind the mask, and she felt sorry for asking, but he responded anyway. “I only planned on stopping those vultures after you ran into me.” Viola creased her eyebrows at that, she did remember running into someone. He let out a humourless laugh. “Heh, but when you asked me to help you…” He shifted his shoulders, as though embarrassed. “You reminded me of someone, who I can’t see anymore.”  
“Did they, are they deceased?” She asked.  
“No, uh, they were taken away. No idea where they are now.” The way he spoke made Viola realise easily that this person was very dear to Sans, and she nodded, feeling honoured to be associated.  
“I understand.” Sans straightened up and changed the subject, his speech becoming more authoritative.  
“I can’t teleport you home cuz I’ve never been inside, only seen it once too.” He rubbed his brow thoughtfully. “I’m gonna have to go find you something to cover yourself with and walk you home.” He nodded to himself. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” This time Viola noted that the blinding light came from Sans’ eye, and in a moment his entire body dropped into the pavement, the background wavering in and out as he vanished.  
   
She sighed to herself. Although she had no proof that Sans murdered that man, a part of her couldn’t help but doubt him; his timing was just too convenient. She also fretted about what her mother would think. What could she possibly tell her? They had probably discovered the body by now, and the police would have been called; and in the commotion, Lilliane would have no idea where her daughter was. The only comfort was that Muffet had been there, maybe she could sort something out. Sitting there under the stars, Viola came to a decision. This entire affair had gotten serious, and Sans had been at the centre every time, she couldn't afford not to care anymore. She needed answers, and although she could sense a great danger lurking behind it all, that wasn’t going to stop her. _If more people are going to die, I’ll have to get braver._  
  
  
  
Sans returned, having changed into his typical waistcoat and hat, the cloth mask was at least less eye catching than the skull one. He brought with him a black cloak, and Viola tucked herself up in it, pulling the large hood down over her face. “C’mon then.” Sans said, leading her once again back to her familiar neighbourhood, although this time the trip was much shorter. As they reached the estate, Sans awkwardly asked: “Seein’ as this happened, would you mind if I took a look inside the house. Just in case we need to get back here.”  
“Ordinarily no, but you’re right. Come along then.” Viola was back to herself now, and left Sans to observe the hallway as she went upstairs to change her clothes.  
“I can dispose of that if you want.” Sans commented as she carried the bloody dress down towards him.  
“If you say so.” She nodded. She watched intently as Sans formed a doorway in the wall and threw the dress into it. All she could see beyond the wavering entry was blackness, and the occasional flicker of light. “You never told me you could do that.” She said. Sans grinned. “You’re the one who called me a magician.”  
“But no one knows what they can do. You’re a mystery.” He shrugged.  
“You’re right there.” He paused for a moment. “Hey, they aren’t all great, I had a magician friend once who got himself fired.”  
“Why?” Sans grinned to himself as Viola took the bait.  
“He didn’t realise after he made the children disappear, he had to make ‘em reappear.” Viola smiled and shook her head.  
“That isn't true now is it?”  
“No.” He looked sheepish. “Worth a try though.” That was something she had noticed about Sans, his tendency to tell terrible jokes. The last time had been in Muffet’s company, but he had never joked with Viola directly. She wondered if that meant he was comfortable with her presence.  
   
The humour left him quickly, and he turned towards the door. “Well, I should go.”  
“Of course. Have a good evening Sans.” Viola stood at the doorstep as she watched him walk away.  
“Look after yourself, kid.” She wanted to say that she would, but with what she had planned she guessed the sentiment wouldn’t remain, as much as she wished it to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Graphic gore is included about halfway through the chapter*


	16. Tomato Soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's...warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter looks so much bigger on my iPad...  
> Shame, I had real fun writing it.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

A single chink of sunlight warmed the girl’s body where she lay, the burning spot on her leg rousing her to wake. For a moment she could barely move at all, the wasting supply of energy hardly holding her together, but she slowly shifted into a sitting position. _Maybe I should just die._ She thought to herself, her eyes hardly registering as she stared at the ground. There was a tiny lurch in her stomach, then a splitting pain that caused her to curl in on herself and flop back onto the ground. She let out a tiny noise, a kind of frustrated whine, like a dog makes, as she quietly lamented what her life had led up to. _What a waste._ She could think what she liked, but in her heart she still knew the terrible nature of that decision, that she was scared of drifting off into the dark without anyone to remember her.  
   
Suddenly she became aware of someone standing over her, a shadow that blocked out the sun in her vision. She closed her eyes in defeat, stupidly clinging to the tiny hope that it was a bad dream, that this person could wake her up from it. “Why are you doing this to yourself…” They muttered, despair and sadness mixed into one, wavering at a soft G flat. It was the skeleton. He crouched before her and ever so gently put a hand behind her head, lifting her from the dirty floor. A metal cup shifted under her nose, and she caught the rich scent of tomatoes, strikingly warm steam rising to her face. It was soup, she realised, and squeezing her eyes shut, she clenched her teeth. The skeleton tutted at her weak defiance, and roughly squeezed her jaw, forcing her mouth open. The sting of pain made the girl’s eyes snap into focus, and she went to glare at him, but the look in his eyes gave her pause. She couldn't begin to understand why, but he seemed so pleading and genuine that she couldn't find it in herself to refuse; it wasn't like she had a choice anyway, and she took a small hesitant sip. The warmth felt like hot coals as it trickled down her throat, unbearably burning at her chest for a few moments, before it receded to a gentle simmer. She coughed, the energy shocking her system awake, and her eyes flickered fully open. Finding the strength in her hands again, she took the cup and finished off the contents, shivering slightly. The skeleton took it from her and got up, quickly retracting. He stood watching her, and the girl frowned, did he think she was going to hurt him? Why should he even care? She desperately wanted to ask, but as usual she would not speak, not for anyone.  
   
“Please…look after yourself.” He glanced back down the street, and rubbed his brow. “I'll be back, later, got someone you need to meet.” _Oh please don't._ She silently begged to herself; but of course there was no stopping a monster, not if she didn't want to disappear suddenly one day, and all she did was let out a sigh. She watched intently as the skeleton walked off into the sunlight.

 


	17. Informant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It looks like things are going to get far more interesting around here~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I am currently revising for exams, I've decided to start uploading monthly.
> 
> Sorry for that! I'll be much more active afterwards.

As it turned out, Muffet did step in when the question was raised on where Viola had gone. Miraculously, a story had been spun about someone that had gotten wine on her dress, she had also felt rather faint, and was escorted home early. As Muffet had a certain way with words, it didn't take much for everyone to be wrapped in her web, even Lilliane. Viola awaited her return, and watched with a bemused humour as her mother fussed over her and apologised for not being there to help. And as luck would have it, Sans was not brought up again until a week later. As far as anyone was aware, the culprit to the murder had not been found, due to complications arising from the nature of the murder weapon, and as much as Viola doubted Sans after the fact, she hoped the event wouldn’t be mentioned again.  
   
Viola stood alone in her father’s study, skimming the many great bookshelves. It had been years since she had ventured into that room, the last time being when she was very young, when her mother used to read to her. She glanced at the reading corner, and was surprised to see that it looked exactly as she remembered, the large lounge chair next to the small colourful wooden one that she would sit in, attentive and wide-eyed. A small impressionable girl so filled with hopes, to be a fighter that banished evil from the land, to destroy all creatures that threatened her people. There was one in particular that told of the ancient story of monsters and humans, of a great battle, and triumph over the vile creatures; it wasn’t accurate of course, history was severely blurred now, and the story had all but turned into a fable. _How ironic._ Viola couldn't help but feel ashamed of her younger self, how black and white she saw the world. But that's how all children are. No, what she sought now was fact.  
   
Picking along the shelves, Viola pulled out two books. One was titled: ‘On the History of Royal Magicians’, a book only given to those who serve the royal family. The other was titled: ‘The Mythos of Monsters’, not the most factually correct book, but nevertheless a source of information. Taking up these two, Viola settled herself behind her father’s desk, careful not to shuffle any of the papers laid upon it. She gazed up at the room for a moment, taking in the unfamiliar scent of dust and fresh ink. The curtains were partially closed, and the light streaming through cast dark shadows upon the walls, the rows of bookshelves giving them an enclosed feel, and making the room seem smaller than it was. The windows hadn’t been opened for a long time, the servants didn’t dare enter the private study without Robert’s leave. There was a certain melancholy to it, an emptiness of warmth, even though it was nearly always occupied. It struck Viola as odd that the room her father spent most of his time in was so cold; a space like this would drive her insane, so dark and gloomy. She looked down at the desk and noticed a tiny photo frame perched on the edge, close to falling in a tidal wave of paper. She picked it up and stared into the faded image of a young girl, no more than eight, with a close-lipped smile. She had been a willowy child, never healthy and plump like kids should be; maybe that was why her mother worried about her so much. When was the last time she had had a proper conversation with her father? He had never truly been there, like a ghost, talked about but never seen. He just wasn’t a part of her life, and that never bothered her; she had always simply told herself he was doing what he had to.  
   
Viola opened up the book on magicians and flipped through. It must’ve been updated yearly, as she easily found a picture of Catherine and her husband King Samuel. Standing at their feet was a small girl with thick brown hair, wearing a beautiful white dress. Reading the passage over the page, Viola named her as ‘Florence’, the only daughter of the king. She stared emotionlessly out of the picture, her eyes dull and uninterested. Viola thought it strange that a child could look so lifeless, even if they did belong in royalty. The caption also read that Florence had been missing for a year, and any information on her whereabouts was of top priority. _Poor Catherine._ Viola couldn’t help but think. She could only imagine how terrible it is to have a lost child, always wondering if they’re still alive. Although she leafed through the majority of the book, there was no sign of Sans; no mention of his name, his work, or even any person of his stature. It was a disappointment, but Viola decided not to dwell on it. She closed the book and proceeded to check over the other one. She didn't glean much information there, only speculation, although it was fascinating. One thing that caught her attention was the monsters’ very real ability to take human souls, she couldn't help but feel slightly threatened; was that what Muffet would have done to her? The other odd fact she discovered was that monsters do not bleed, but dust. Dust? Like ashes? She ignored the part of her brain that wished to see what that looked like for itself, and continued reading.  
   
It was while she did this that she was interrupted, and she jumped up from her seat in alarm as the door opened. There was only one person that it could be. “S-sir! I'm sorry!” She blurted, clutching the books defensively to her chest. Robert was a board-shouldered man, his perfectly straight mousy hair and height being definite traits Viola inherited. His eyes were alien in her genes though, piercing icy blue, deep lines scarring his face with overwork. He fixed her with reserved surprise, and slowly made his way into the room, watching her with an awkward air. Viola stumbled to excuses, but brute honestly pushed its way through. “I was only researching something sir, I shouldn't have stayed at long as I did. Please forgive me.” She dipped her head hastily, and Robert came to stand before her, just as unsure as she was. He took the books from her and inspected the covers, his eyebrows raising. “You were…researching the royal family?” He said, his voice quiet, almost like he was fearful of speaking. The two were so alienated that they were akin to strangers, unsure of what to say, or the right way to even say it. “Yes sir…” Viola replied, wincing. It wasn't frowned upon for women to read and be educated, to an extent it was encouraged. But Viola knew as well as anyone else that curiosity was not a good trait to have, especially in her position. She held her breath as she awaited the verdict. Robert looked at her in confusion for a moment. “You, enjoy reading these books?”  
“Uh, yes sir, I mean…if they can help me.” She edged her eyes upwards, and saw Robert now held a delicate smile.  
“That's very forthright of you…daughter.”  
“Thank you sir.” Viola glanced at the open door, and took the opportunity to go. “I'll take my leave, sorry for disturbing your work.” She rested her hand on the knob, and paused as her father called out to her.   
“If you, if you should need to research again, you are welcome to read in here.” Viola found herself beaming as she turned to respond.  
“I…thank you, sir. I'll be sure to do so.” He nodded to her with a slightly uncomfortable smile, and she carefully closed the door, grinning with glee.  
  
  
  
After about twenty minutes of coaxing, Viola convinced her mother to let her go and visit Muffet, her maid Clara in tow. “Good afternoon dearie. Brought me another delicious specimen today?” Muffet commented as she opened the door.  
“Hello Muffet. This is just my friend Clara.” Viola said, smiling knowingly. Muffet practically jumped upon Clara, touching her hair, examining her fingers, like she was appraising a piece of antique furniture.  
“Just perfect~” Clara gave Viola a look of pleading alarm, and she patted Muffet’s arm.  
“I have something to ask you.” Muffet sighed as she finally pulled away, stepping behind the counter she tapped her fingers on it rhythmically.  
“Honestly my pet, I do so enjoy helping your little self, but I have my limitations.” Her eyes flashed eerily, and she grinned. “You owe me.” Viola gulped.  
“I-I am aware. Thank you very much for what you did at the party also.” Muffet picked under the display counter and pulled out a cupcake with blue icing, pushing it in Clara’s direction.  
“Go on, try it.” Clara backed away from the table, causing Muffet to laugh.  
“It's about Sans.” Viola continued, determined to have her say. Muffet glanced at her and tutted.  
“Of course it is.” She gave a theatrical look of hurt. “I wish you’d think about me sometimes honey, have I not been a good friend to you?”  
“I…wouldn’t call us friends just yet Muffet.” She put a hand to her forehead in despair.  
“Oh goodness! You certainly know how to wound.” She leaned over and called out towards the baking room. “Where are the gatherers? Out here please.” There was a scuffle, and then the door edged open as about eight of the strange purple spiders skittered onto the parlour floor. They proceeded to scramble onto the tabletop and stand to attention in an orderly row before their mistress. Clara watched with a half mystified, half terrified expression at the scene, and muttered to herself: “I think I need to sit down Miss Viola, I'll be over there alright?” She then perched herself at the table closest to the window, keeping her eyes on them.  
   
Muffet looked over her little minions with a scrutinising eye. “You be sure to keep note of what our client says, am I clear?” Her voice was quieter than usual, less expressive, and slightly icy. The group bobbed their heads hastily, and turned to watch Viola across the counter. “Um, hello…” She offered her finger to one of them, who, to her obvious satisfaction, did indeed shake it with one of its wiry legs. Muffet cleared her throat and took on a matter-of-fact tone.  
“Right my dear, what do you want to know?”  
“I want to know what Sans is doing.”  
“Mm, I need specifics honey, that's a broad category.”  
“I want to know about his work as a magician, what he has to do with monsters. Honestly, why he always seems to be there when something is going on.” Muffet nodded, and glanced down at the gatherers, who gave her a mix of unidentifiable gestures. “Hmm, are you sure those are the numbers?” Another collective waving of arms. “That's true…although not hard to come by thanks to his continued support…” She grinned hungrily to herself, before turning back to Viola. “Yes. Sorry my pet, running with those answers would cost you a great deal of money, it's highly classified after all. Judging by your family situation, you don't have any money of your own.” She nodded. “Not a lot of info either from what I remember? You're quite the sheltered darling.” Viola frowned. “You've been…researching me?” Muffet shrugged innocently.  
“Of course sweetie, I have to be invested in all my customers, and that means who they are too. Nothing slips under my radar.” She gestured to the empty shop. “How else did you think I made a living? This shop hardly cuts it.”  
“I didn't realise.” _Though I don't much appreciate the probing. Was it really necessary to look into my personal life? Not to mention how she managed that._ Viola mused. Muffet shook her head and went on.  
“Anyhoo, back to business. As you’re new to this would it be acceptable for me to give you some pointers?” Viola nodded. “This information you want, hmm, I feel that you might be better off finding it out for yourself.” Viola settled herself more comfortably over the counter. “But that’s why I’ve come to you. I have...no power at all. I can’t leave home without an escort, as is normal, how would I find out anything?” Muffet leaned forward and licked her lips.  
“Well...how far are you willing to go?” Viola’s stomach dropped slightly at her deadly expression.  
“That depends.” The gatherers on the tabletop bounced excitedly as they seemed to come to a conclusion. Muffet checked a couple of things over before nodding.  
“I can tell you exactly how to get what you want. But!” She gave Viola a truly serious look. “Don’t come crying to me if you get caught.”  
   
One of the spiders ran off into the back room and returned with a folded slip of paper, which they passed to Viola. “That is a one time pass out of the city, protect it with your life, _very_ hard to come by.” Muffet clapped her hands busily. “Alright gatherers, have the directions she’ll need written up in ten minutes or _you will_ be sorry. Do I make myself clear?” The group burbled in fear as they massed together, scribbling out a list of notes in surprisingly neat handwriting on a sheet of A4 paper.  
“A…a little harsh don’t you think? I can wait.” Viola began.  
“No no, they've lost their touch since we left the Underground and they’d do well to remember who’s in charge.” Muffet tossed her head and gave her a bright smile. “I do wonder though my pet, are you truly prepared for what you'll find?” She reached over and gently brushed the hair off her forehead, like a mother would. “You’re a strong one, but how accepting can you be?” A thought seemed to occur to her, and she giggled. “No, rather I wonder how our little bone-boy will react. He can be so sensitive sometimes.” Viola smiled back, because she couldn’t imagine Sans ever being so reactive, he never gave anything away. “Do enjoy yourself my sweet~ I hope you find everything you’re looking for.”  
“Thank you kindly Muffet, I really do appreciate it.”  
“Yes, and don’t you forget you owe me! I’ll have to see about what you could do to assist me.” She grinned mischievously, and Viola couldn't help but wonder, just what _was_ coming next.

 


	18. Threats from a Fish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This human has some nerve!

Viola sat on her bed, staring out the window into the night. The curtains were open, and the latch had been loosened, allowing a slight breeze to drift through. A warm heaviness had fallen upon the dusk, and that was a small comfort, she wouldn't be cold. She looked down at the paper crumpled in her hands, and collected her thoughts to action. She got changed, pulling on a comfortable, if slightly oversized tan coat, large buttons and thick material hanging down to her knees; a pair of shorts was the only other suitable thing she could find in the house, left by one of the staff, and Viola couldn’t help but feel childish as she gazed at herself in the mirror, the large coat and visible knees not helping her situation. But she consoled herself by noting that she _had_ to remain hidden at all costs. If anyone in the city saw her walking alone as a woman, she would be caught and returned home in an instant. As a final touch, Viola pulled up her hair under a Gatsby cap, pulling the brim down low over her eyes.   
   
Packing up what she needed in a little shoulder bag, she stepped out onto the porch, the light above her streaming out onto the pavement. The wind bit and snaked past her ears, pushing the muggy air around her face. Looking down at the directions the spiders had written for her, Viola took note. _‘Head to the main street of the common quarter before 12:30 AM’._ This time she had been resourceful enough to bring along a map of the city, and holding it up to the light, she marked out a course. As she moved off, Viola glanced back up at the manor, its empty lightless windows gaping, as though in horror, at her disobedience. She felt a stirring of guilt in her heart, she had never done anything like this, and worried what her mother would think. But, maybe she never had to know; Viola could only hope.  
   
For a while the going was good, there was not a soul in sight, and although the air was eerily still, she tried to keep her nerves to a minimum. Passing through the boundary between the high and common quarter, she kept her head low as the officer on duty watched her, although looking suspicious, he didn’t question her. The main street of the common quarter was deserted, a wide stretch of road lined with small unassuming shops, a light in the upper windows here and there. At the centre of the area was a simple courtyard of red bricks, arranged in circles. _‘Hide yourself and wait for Sans. Once you see him, follow him.’_ Scribbled in shouty letters underneath it read: _‘DO NOT LET HIM SEE YOU.’_ Viola frowned slightly at the apparent silliness of the entire affair, but did as directed, standing silently in the shadow of the buildings overlooking the path. Right on schedule, she felt the stir of a presence further up the street, and turned her head to watch as he came into view, a small inky black figure in the dark. _Who’s undercover now?_ She couldn't help but think to herself. Then she noticed how scruffy he looked; his waistcoat was slightly muddy in places, the top hat crooked, and he was breathing heavier than usual. Glancing down at his gloves, Sans tutted to himself as he dusted them off, correcting his hat, and rolling his shoulders with a click. Had he been in a fight? It was a poor conclusion to jump to, and she quickly revised the multitude of terrible ideas her mind was leaping towards. Pulling away somewhat from the safety of the wall, Viola matched Sans’ pace and began to follow. A part of her had expected him to notice her right away, but for one reason or another he seemed distracted, murmuring to himself as he took out a little book and began writing. She had no idea where he could be heading at this time of night, but if he was heading out of the city, according to the gate pass Muffet gave her, she would have to be on guard. The yellow flower brooch was in her bag, and she reached for it and stroked the soft material; it would all be okay, she just had to keep telling herself that.  
  
  
  
Eventually the two of them approached the colossal mass of the city wall, and Sans slipped his pass through the entry door. Viola teetered on the step as she handed over the little slip of paper, but the guard at the gate didn’t even blink, as though it was the most normal thing in the world to be walking outside at 1 ‘o clock in the morning. The ruined streets looked a whole lot more threatening without the light, the wavering glow of the moon caressing the edges of shredded buildings. The one thing that lessened the overwhelming hostility was the sky, without the artificial gleam of the living, the stars became magnified with their own brilliance; Viola couldn’t believe just how many there were, patterns in the formation of picturesque creatures and stories, so many other worlds with their own unique beginnings and ends. For a moment she could do nothing but stare. Realising suddenly that she had a job to do, she jogged off down the path, after the quickly receding figure of Sans.  
  
He didn't seem at all interested in the suffering that surrounded him, and his pace was hurried. He visibly slouched as they entered the more populated area of the slums, and kept his head low, eyes focussed on the ground. Did the suffering of others bother him? It wouldn't surprise her, he seemed perfectly genuine and good at heart. It was then that she noticed how the eyes followed him, hollow with pain, and fearful. A couple of sorry-looking kids with hardly enough clothing between them were shuffling in her direction, but as soon as they realised Sans was there they went out of their way to avoid him, sticking themselves to the walls of crumbled buildings as he passed, ignoring them completely. Viola frowned, alarm rising in her throat; just what _was_ Sans doing? Everyone around her was scared out of their wits, and it seemed almost comical to her that she was the most comfortable, even though she was completely out of place. Sans picked up his pace even more, sticking his hands in his pockets, and she hurried after him, still lucky that she could blend in.  
   
Finally he came to a stop, and Viola could see exactly what he was heading for. There was a building about halfway up this street, and someone had taken the time to fix it, boarding up the collapsed walls and patching the roof. There was a large sign painted above the section of wall where the windows should've been, in yellow: Grillby’s. The entire display was charmingly shabby, light glowing here and there through the cracks in the brickwork. It must've been a pub of some sort, that was the only conclusion Viola could come to with a name like that. And as she watched from the shadow of the next street over, she saw Sans wander slowly up the the entrance. Standing outside was a tall figure in a long black suit, and they nodded to him and gestured inside. _Just my luck, a bouncer._ Viola brushed herself down and went up to the door, as she got closer she regretted her decision to approach at all, for this person was the most threatening she had ever seen. The only way she could describe him was…fish-like, at least, she assumed they were male; he was wearing a long tailored suit with coat tails, which was unbuttoned to reveal a white and beige striped shirt, complete with red bracers. No woman would wear such a thing. His skin was a mottled blue-green, the occasional scale defined in the light as it glinted off them, coupled with fin shaped red and blue ears, twitching slightly in surprise. The face of this creature was the most intriguing, with barely a nose to account for, and a large toothed grin that seemed to take up half of it, an eyepatch pulled over his left eye. The hair was what made Viola question herself, for it was unusually long, and the brightest red she had ever seen, not ginger, crimson as roses. His eye fixed her questioningly, the pupil retracting and startling yellow iris widening, like some predatory bird. His arms were folded, body language closed and suspicious. “Can I _help_ you, human?” His voice was rough and expressional, but contained some feminine inflection.  
“I...would it be possible for me to go in sir?” Viola asked, once again unsettled by her wish to be polite, even to someone beneath her; although she truly had no idea where monsters stood yet in her society, even if they were neglected that didn’t mean they couldn’t amount to something. The monster’s eye narrowed. “You wanna come in? What the hell’d you want!?” He stepped forward, allowing Viola to feel every inch of his seven foot four height above her head. “You got business? Prove it punk.” He snarled. Viola stepped back a ways, ducking for shelter beneath the rim of her hat. “I came to-to find someone. I know they’re here, so…” He looked down at her, curiosity hinting on his face.  
“Oh?” A grin stretched his features, and it was ferocious; not the beautiful smile of Muffet that effectively hid her intentions, an unbridled sneer, betraying his wish to trouble. “You’re a spy then?”  
“What? No, of course not.” Viola replied hastily. He began to pace around her, inspecting her clothes and picking at her long sleeves with hooked black claws.  
“Hm, you don’t have any brands. Not hiding anything I should know about? Still…” He stepped back in front of her and rested a hand on his hip. “So, are you a duster? Could be a hunter, though there's no reason to hide. Maybe you’re a new birdie? You look to be the right age.” There was a clink, and Viola glanced down to see his claws were clicking against a pistol, strapped to his belt. “Tell me human!” He barked suddenly, the hand on the gun undoubtedly a true threat; he would shoot her.  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m not a threat to you, I’m a civilian looking for a friend, why can’t you believe something like that?” Viola burst out, incredulous at his apparent suspicion of a weak human about half his height.  
“Wow…” His eyebrows raised. “You’re pretty good at acting.” Viola sighed to herself, she was hitting a brick wall here.  
   
“I’ll get out of your way.” She muttered. Had she really come all this way for nothing?  
“HOLD IT PUNK!!!” The monster bellowed, suddenly far louder than was necessary. “Can’t just let you go can I? Gotta find out what the hell you want first.” Viola looked up incredulously.  
“I told you.”  
“Fine, come on in little human, I’ll figure you out whether you like it or not!” This monster was far peppier than any she had met so far, and oddly, Viola felt drawn to it. There was a quirky radiance to him that she couldn’t begin to understand, and his attitude was so alien to her that she wasn’t even sure how to respond; this strange mix of feelings coaxed her forward towards the open door without a second thought.  
   
When Viola stepped through into the bar, she realised right then and there exactly what Muffet meant; within a second she entered an entirely different world, without a single human in sight. The place wasn't exactly hopping, but there were at least ten patrons, each as absurd as the next. The first thing that caught Viola’s eye were the creatures sitting at the biggest table, playing a game of cards. They were dogs…wearing armour, pure white bar one, and occasionally barking or growling at one another in conversation. Closer to the bar stood two more monsters who Viola assumed were friends, a tall red demon-like creature, and a mouse as big as a dog, an adorable green scarf wrapped around his head. The demon had a long piece of ribbon with bells on it tied back and forth around his horns, and he smiled pleasantly down at his smaller friend, tinkling every time he moved. The mouse flicked his ears in annoyance as he spoke, a concerned frown on his face, but the demon simply laughed in response, either not taking him seriously, or trying to cheer him up. As the bouncer ushered her further in, she passed another patron who seemed to be the only one she would rightly call a ‘monster’; his head was rather out of proportion with his body, and all detail she could see was his mouth, taking up the entirety of his face, lips pulled back to reveal long fangs. She couldn’t help but be startled by the sight, but as the monster acknowledged her, his mouth contorted into a surprisingly genuine smile, and he politely tilted the little top hat on his head to her.  
   
“Okay yah punk, sit down!” The fish monster commanded, pointing over to the bar. Viola wanted to protest but she felt antagonising him any further would make bigger problems. She had never been to a pub, never drunk alcohol, never even properly seen one, and she carefully settled herself on a high stool before the counter, gazing around in interest, despite herself. The patron sitting next to her was a bedraggled ginger tomcat wearing a smart black pinstripe suit, although it was being crumpled as he slumped over the counter, one arm crossed under his chin, and the other clutching a glass of something dark and sparkling; he had deep rings under his eyes, and his ears were drooping against his head as he gazed wearily forward at nothing in particular. Noticing her stare, the cat flicked an ear in her direction, frowning in irritation, but said nothing. The bouncer sat down on her other side, heavily, and slammed a fist into the tabletop. “Hey Grillby! I’ll have the usual.” The monster Viola assumed to be the pub owner, hence the name, was by far the most intriguing creature she had ever seen. He entered from the back room and stood before them, casting a comforting orange glow over the scene. Viola could not help but stare, he was beautiful. A fire spirit coalesced into the form of a vaguely human figure, slitted white eyes watching from behind a mysteriously secure pair of glasses, the flickering but unyielding flames clinging in position, but shifting and changing within themselves, like the ocean; slowly dancing patterns of orange, yellow and occasional blue tracing his form, and flitting off into the air at the extremities of his head and fingertips. He wore a neat suit with shiny black buttons, somehow. She wondered to herself how often he set things on fire, and if his clothes were flame retardant. Grillby tilted his head slightly, and made a tiny gesture towards the fish monster, who grinned happily and shook his head. “You know I wouldn’t Grillby. Sorry though, won’t happen again.” Viola frowned, he hadn’t even spoken, but they had a conversation? Grillby was now looking at her, and he lifted his hand in a motion as if to drink something, and gestured to her. She gathered this was some kind of communication through gesture, and shook her head. “Uh, no, I don’t drink. Thank you.” He tilted his head again, this time in a thoughtful manner, and nodded to her before turning away.  
   
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as the bouncer turned to her, his eye deadly. “Alright human, so what do you want here?” He didn’t sound like he wanted any nonsense. “There's no point lying, you’re not getting out of here alive anyway.” He bared his teeth, leaning forward aggressively. “ _No one_ is going to hurt my friends punk, you humans can go to hell for what you do to us.” His voice rose a little as he snarled, and Viola found herself shrinking away. But the monster’s words were suddenly beginning to make more sense, out here his species had no protection, and the humans could do whatever they liked. There was a very good chance her people would wipe them out, maybe that was why she had been met with hostility? At least from the one in front of her. But then why were the others so civil and accepting of her presence? Viola knew she would have to tell the whole truth, or end up in a threatening situation yet again. She took another look around the bar to see if she could spot Sans, but he was nowhere in sight. She carefully removed her hat and tidied her hair, before turning back to the fish. “My name is Viola Thompson, and I came here to find Sans.”

 


	19. The Diplomacy of 'Savages'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well uh, I guess she got what she wanted...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [IMPORTANT NOTICE]
> 
> Published chapters will be few and far between until I finish my final exams in June.  
> Sorry in advance for any accidental cliffhangers, I hate them as much as you do.
> 
> Thank you dearly for your continued support my lovelies. <3

How could this have happened? He should have been more careful, should have paid more attention. But he was _always_ careful, so controlled, so efficient in keeping everyone away; but not good enough, not when she was involved.  
  
Sans put a hand to his face, the pain in his skull getting steadily worse the more he thought about it. Viola was never supposed to find this place! What the hell was he going to do now? He had watched her exchange with Undyne from the moment she forced her to sit at the bar, and was growing more anxious by the second. What were they talking about? From that distance he had no idea what, but he didn’t dare get any closer for fear of being seen. Crap, knowing Undyne, it was nothing good.  
  
He instinctively recognised a soul moving up behind him, and gentle footsteps. “Sans? What’s wrong?” He turned to look up at Toriel, her rusted red eyes lit with motherly concern.  
“Um, n-nothing Tori.” She ignored him and leaned forward to peer in the same direction.  
“You really should improve your ability to lie Sans.” She scoured the room until she noticed the unfamiliar figure at the bar. “Oh. A human is it?” Her voice dropped suspiciously, and took on an edge that Sans knew all too well. Bad news. “Are they causing you trouble?” She went to step forward, and Sans hurriedly put a hand on her arm.  
“No! No, it’s okay. I just…wasn’t expecting her to show up.” He retracted his hand, apologetic, and looked down. Toriel watched him for a moment, and sighed softy.  
“Don’t be guilty now, your choices are your own.” She smiled reassuringly. “Humans need to live as much as we do.” His pupils flickered and he looked up in surprise.  
“You don’t mind?” She shook her head, and turned to move back down the hall.  
“Do remember how Undyne feels about such things though dear, if you want to keep them safe.”  
  
Sans edged his way out from the safety of the doorway, noticing now that Viola had somehow gained Undyne’s full attention, who sat with a bemused expression. He shuffled up behind the main table where the dogs were collected, and G.D looked up at him, yipping in acknowledgement. Sans nodded to him and sheltered just behind his left shoulder, peering warily at the bar. G.D glanced towards Viola and gave him a look, but he ignored it. Now, how could he get Viola out of this situation without causing a fuss?  
  
  
  
The fish monster sat patiently until Viola finished her story, upon which he grinned knowingly. “Well, I don’t know how much I believe but, damn. Good story.” He clapped a hand roughly on Viola’s shoulder, although his eyes remained decidedly unfriendly. “Know a lot about Sans don'tcha punk.” He shrugged apologetically. “Well, I gotta admit you made your case well. Tell you what, I won't set the torturers on you, and I'll make it quick. How bout that?” He leaned in, and Viola remained frozen to her seat as she felt the slight warmth of breath on her skin. “But, it would be nice if you told me _how_ you found out so much about a good friend of mine.” Viola wetted her lips, and kept her eyes locked with the countertop.  
“Or you could just…not murder me at all?” She whispered.  
“Sorry, gang policy and all. If you aren't friend then you're foe, especially if you're human.” Yes, of course that's how it was. What had she expected to achieve by coming here? These creatures were not like her, she liked them, but that didn't mean they would do her the same courtesy.  
  
Grillby walked back around the front of the bar, placing a whiskey before the fish, which was steaming. He then turned to Viola and placed a delicate glass on the counter, containing a peach-orange drink that blended to a sunny yellow towards the top. He tilted his head at her confusion, and made a little gesture to the fish before turning away, who scoffed. “Good call Grillby. It’s a mocktail, no alcohol.” He took a swig of his own drink, and his fin ears twitched, Viola assumed, in enjoyment. Some monsters are surprisingly easy to read. She took the glass and stared at the contents, in no mood to enjoy herself, but she sipped anyway. It was peach, with orange and a hint of blueberry, the tartness breaking through in waves. Considering she felt as though she was about to have a panic attack, the murder threats being unavoidably real, it caused her to smile anyway. “Oh, um, thank you kindly sir.” Grillby nodded to her and brought his hand down from the side of his face to the bottom, although she hadn’t a clue what it meant.  
  
After a moment she turned back towards the fish, only to feel a presence behind her. Her shoulders tingled and she kept very still, every part of her expecting a knife at her throat, or in the back. “Oh hey Sans, just the guy I was looking for. This punk knows a lot about you y’know? How’d you manage to let that happen?” The fish leaned laxly against the bar and grinned. The terrible feeling in Viola’s gut evaporated at the name he spoke, and she turned her head to her side, where Sans now stood. His eyes were darkened as he stared. “Undyne.” He murmured, his voice rumbling in its lowness. “What are you doing with this girl?” Undyne shrugged.  
“Getting info, cutting loose ends, the usual.” Sans glanced at Viola, his expression unchanged, and air hissed through his teeth.  
“Leave her alone.” He said darkly, causing Undyne’s eyebrows to rise.  
“What? You actually owe _her_? Damn Sans.” His tone was mocking.  
“It’s not like that.” Sans snapped. He turned back to Viola and glared her down, shrinking her back in her seat. “I’m taking you home, now.” He strode from the counter towards the exit, and Viola slipped out of her seat hurriedly, leaving Undyne incredulous as he watched. “Sans!” Viola called out. “I’m not leaving.” He stopped dead, his expression one of great confusion as he turned to watch her. “I got this far. I-I know you told me not to but-“ He bustled up, gesturing frantically for her to be quiet, before taking her wrist and leading her through to the side of the room, where a corridor lead away into the dark. It was then that Viola noticed how much attention she had called to herself, the dogs and other curious monsters becoming silent and watchful as she spoke, and that only made her more guilty. “I’m sorry…” She muttered dejectedly. “I didn’t want to anger you.” Sans looked up at her, and frowned to himself.  
“No no, I wasn't-it wasn't you I…” He sighed. “I was angry with Undyne. She's, uh, she's not fond of humans. I have to be tough to even get her to listen.” Viola nodded in recognition, before frowning.  
“ _‘She’_? Undyne is female?” Now it was Sans’ turn to look confused.  
“Yeah…?”  
“But she's wearing a suit.”  
“And?” Viola looked down at him, speechless. _I guess I should've expected abnormality, even to this degree._  
“…Never mind.” She corrected her hair with a slightly shaky hand. She wasn't wearing female clothes, so maybe Undyne was doing something similar.  
  
Sans glanced back into the bar with an uncomfortable air. “What are you doing here? How did you even _get_ here?”  
“Muffet.” She responded, sharing Sans’ unfeeling smile of: ‘of course it was’. “She got me out of the city, though…”  
“You owe her now.” Sans nodded casually. “Makes two of us.”  
“Is that particularly common?” She asked.  
“Yeah. She likes, uh, bein’ in control.”  
“She does appear to be quite passively threatening, if I may say so.” Sans chuckled dryly.  
“Most spiders are.”  
  
The gentle conversation was abruptly cut short upon the entrance of another monster, this time from the corridor beyond. Once Viola identified her in the light, she realised she was looking at a massively tall goat creature, with brilliant white fur and quietly watchful red eyes. She wore a long black bell-shaped dress, not shouty, but quite refined. There was also a traditional Victorian Vanderbilt hat to match, pulled neatly over her small horns. Her height alone made her imposing, but the look she gave Viola was enough to turn her blood to ice; it wasn't overtly threatening, but warned her away so distinctly that she felt the need to run in the opposite direction. Sans noticed her staring, and turned to look, his body language immediately tensing to prickly attention. Guilt. “I greet you, human. I am Toriel Dreemur, mistress of this establishment.” It seemed to Viola as odd, that now there was a monster speaking in a way she could understand. She had only just gotten used to their strange quirks. Curtseying, Viola struggled to get the words out in hopes of appeasing the suddenly tense atmosphere. “I am charmed m’lady. Viola Thompson.” Something shifted in Toriel’s expression, surprise perhaps. “I must thank you for allowing my entrance.” Sans looked between the two of them nervously, unsure of how to respond to the situation brewing.  
“Uh, Tori…” Toriel raised a hand to stop him speaking, and he flinched.  
“Would you please follow me.” It wasn’t a question, and Viola fell into step as she was led through the dusky backrooms. Most of them were bedrooms she noticed, cluttered with makeshift beds of varying sizes, cramped together and terribly dusty. There were no windows, and the only light was from candles lining the walls, giving the whole place a considerably sadder and poorer look than outside. She could tell that the effort to keep up appearances was primarily maintained in the bar area, but underneath it, things didn't look so good.  
  
The room they entered was lighter, and filled with comfortable, albeit battered, sofas and lounge chairs. It had a similar feel to her lounge at home, and Viola felt herself relax a little. “Please have a seat.” Toriel settled herself in a large standing chair, while both Viola and Sans sat on the sofa across from her. Carefully removing her hat, she let out a quiet sigh, before addressing Viola in an a cautious manner. “It has come to my attention that you know a great deal more about monsters than you should. Undyne has explained your story, and I must admit it troubles me.”  
  
“It-it wasn't her fault-“ Sans interjected, but Toriel once again stopped him.  
  
“Tell me, why are you interested in us? Why did you come here?” Viola glanced at Sans, his change in manner when faced by Toriel was making her nervous.  
“I wanted to, I wanted to understand you. My people aren’t the most accepting, and after I found Caramel I just…I’m unsure. I feel drawn to monsters. I want to protect them.” Toriel’s expression remained stoic as Viola spoke, and her reply was immediate. “Why?” She glanced at Sans again; he had asked the same thing.  
“I…I don't know.” She answered, quiet now. Sans looked shifty, itching to speak.  
“Tori, please. It was my fault for getting her involved.”  
“Let the girl speak for herself Sans.” Toriel commanded, a quiet forcefulness to her tone. _Sans shouldn't be taking the blame for this. I got in his way, I kept going when he told me not to. It isn't fair._ Suddenly, a bout of confidence rose in Viola’s chest, and she spoke up. “I want to be involved for the same reason Sans does, why is that so difficult to understand?” Toriel frowned. “I can understand the need to be careful who you trust, but I feel this hostility is unwarranted. I am an upper class citizen, not a savage.” She paused, wondering if she’d gone too far. “Please…” She murmured. “I only wish to understand, to be a part of this, if I would be allowed to.” Toriel’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.  
“I believe I understand.” She got to her feet.  
“Do excuse me for a moment.” She left the room swiftly, and a silence fell.  
  
Viola looked over at Sans, who was studying her intently. “Did I say the right thing?” She asked. Sans snapped back from his staring, and looked apologetic.  
“Yeah…” He put a hand to his face, massaging his temple. “Guess you’ve gotten what you want, heh.” He seemed more dejected than usual, and she wondered what was wrong. “Just, I hope you know what you're getting into. It's, uh, we've got it tough.” She smiled reassuringly.  
“I don’t, that’s why I’m here.” He grimaced, still very much on edge. Toriel returned soon after, and accompanying her was Undyne, and a new monster who appeared to be the same species of goat, only with larger horns and longer fur;  
“Here we are.” Toriel announced, sitting back down. “Viola.” She stiffened to attention at the sound of her name.  
“Yes?”  
“This is Asgore, the leader of our establishment.” She gestured to all of them. “Together we four are in charge of the monsters, I am the diplomatic party, Undyne is in control of our forces, Asgore is our main overseer, and Sans is our infiltrator.” Viola looked at Sans, who seemed to shrink away. “Infiltrator?” She asked.  
“I, uh, because I'm a magician I can-I can oversee human affairs and assist monsters.” He glanced at Toriel, pleading concern written all over his face. She looked confused, but nodded to him respectfully.  
“Ahem.” She turned to Asgore and Undyne. “I have outlined the details, and now I want to ask you all, should we allow Viola to join our cause?”


	20. It Looks Like You Might be One of Us/You Must be Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I will NEVER go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [WARNING] - Themes of gender dysphoria, child abuse and gore appear in this chapter, if these things are offensive to you, please have caution <3
> 
> As Cai commented a very thoughtful set of feedback on this fic, which was extremely helpful and exactly what I needed to see how you lovelies view my writing, I decided I might as well upload the next chapter.
> 
> Have fun! xx

“What?!” Undyne burst out. “You trust the _human_? After what they've done to us?” Her expression became outraged, then livid, and she stared at Viola with more hatred than she had ever seen. “Unacceptable.” She lifted a hand and pulled something from the air, a pointed spear of sorts, made of nothing but cyan light; it seemed familiar somehow, but she wasn't sure why. Sans remained silent, but she felt him flinch beside her, his eyes becoming dark again. She hoped they wouldn't start a fight. But she had no need to worry, for Toriel raised a hand, and both of them relaxed. “Undyne, your opinion has been voiced. I trust Sans’ judgement above your bias. Please stand down.” Undyne hissed, but threw the spear aside, where it melted into nothing. Asgore spoke up, his voice soft and low. “She does have a point, Toriel. Our position isn't stable, if she leaked any information…”  
“I'm assigning Sans to keep an eye on her. She could prove to be an asset on the human side of things.” Viola looked over at Sans brightly, who shrugged his shoulders, giving her an unfeeling smile. “Within reason, I think she should assist in his cases. How about it Sans?” Toriel asked.  
“Sure thing boss.” He mumbled. Asgore patted Undyne on the shoulder, who was now looking rather frustrated.  
“Then we are in agreement.” He said. He turned to Viola and gave her a patient smile. “Welcome young one.” Viola stood up and shook the offered hand, which had long well kept claws, and was big enough to completely cover hers. She smiled back, and bowed her head to each of them in turn. “Thank you kindly.”  
  
  
Sans reached over the counter and handed Viola a piece of ribbon, red in colour, with a little square crest. She looked closer, and saw an image printed there, a simple red heart. “How sweet, what's it for?”  
“Our symbol, a label if you will. So people know not to give you trouble.” He pointed to an identical ribbon tied around his upper right arm, securing the excess of fabric on his baggy sleeve. “We all have em.” Viola ran the silky material through her fingers absently. “I'll treasure it.” She murmured. This was more than just identification, this was proof, proof that she was part of something far bigger than she was. Sans slouched forward over the bar, his eyes drifting to watch Grillby moving around behind it. “You don't seem to mind so much,” She commented. “After trying to keep me away so long. Doesn't this bother you?” He shrugged.  
“Not my place.”  
“But I want to know what _you_ think.” She gently prodded. He gave her an utterly fake smile of reassurance.  
“It doesn't matter. Don't worry ‘bout it kid.” Viola huffed.  
“Of course.” They fell into silence, although it wasn't an uncomfortable one. Viola shifted a ways in her seat so she could watch the rest of the bar, noticing that the group of dogs had mellowed, most of them lying with their heads on the table, ears occasionally flicking in response to sound. It was late, much later than Viola was used to, and now that the tension was gone she felt it weighing on her. Her legs ached a little, and there was a drowsiness lurking somewhere behind her eyelids, threatening to take over if she didn't stay alert. She was happy with her position, but at a moment like this, the one thing she wanted most was to be at home in her bedroom; away from prying eyes, able to relax totally in her own space and not worry about keeping up appearances. “I suppose I should tell you about what we're doing…” Sans murmured, looking almost as exhausted as she felt.  
“Actually, would it be terribly rude of me if I asked to return home?” The look he gave her was relieved.  
“Are you sure?”  
“Yes. I mustn't impose at this time of night.” Viola got up and brushed down her skirts, before bowing her head to Sans. “I wish you a good evening.”  
“Wha-wait, you can't walk home alone, it's dark.” She smiled apologetically.  
“I was hoping you'd say that. I can't say I would enjoy walking outside at this time.” Sans nodded, and moved to follow her out. As the door swung shut behind them, Viola met the icy glare of Undyne as she passed, and gave her a passive smile, which only seemed to deepen the frown. “Keep sharp out there Sans.” She called out after them.  
“Sure thing.” He muttered.  
  
  
Frisk sat with their back against the wall and their head down. The room they were secluded in was small and blank, repeating grey stone, and incredibly cold; a wine cellar. They often locked them down there for hours at a time, and that day was no exception. At least it was clean, albeit a few cobwebs here and there. A tiny spider, no bigger than Frisk’s thumbnail, crawled across the section of floor they could see beneath their folded arms, and they trapped it between their fingers, watching it clamber up their palm; a pearly translucent body, with hooked black legs and little mandibles. They smiled as the contact tickled their skin, and huddled in close, pulling the collar of their oversized jumper up around their neck. Their fingers identified one of the many tears in the thread, and they sighed. Yet another hole they would have to crudely stitch up. Their fingertips were already riddled with holes from the last time, and ached uncomfortably. The only light they could see emanated from the door at the top of the stairs, firmly locked shut. For a time Frisk had attempted to escape, but they learned their lesson soon enough, the iron set door was impenetrable. They always learned their lesson, in one way or another, _they_ would never allow them to do otherwise. _“You are a lady, you should respect others in the manner taught to you.”  
_

‘They’ were Frisk’s parents, though the name related in much the same familial nature as a workman to his tools. The very thought of them was enough to make Frisk quiver. The mother, long dark hair tied into a long French braid that draped over her right shoulder, strands pulling loose as though trying to escape the follicles of her head. Porcelain doll skin, and sharp unfriendly features, the poise of absolute perfection, a kind of beauty so well refined it seemed artificial. The father, tall and graceful in every sense, brown hair straight and uniform. Calm intellectual eyes, the likes of which could not be observed without being expelled by their harsh energy. Their mother still brought more fear to their heart, for their father, although controlled and cold, had never had any time for Frisk, and that was a small mercy. _“What nonsense is this? Talking back to your mother, you should be ashamed of yourself child.”_ There was a clatter from the stairwell, and Frisk’s body tensed as a beam of light flooded the room. The echoing click of shoe against stone made their breath falter with every step, and they curled up in defence as their eyes searched the appearing figure for a sign of threat. But it was only the family butler, spotless waistcoat a contrast to their tattered clothes. He looked upon Frisk with a resigned air, and quietly dignified pity. Nodding his head to them, he picked out what he needed from one of the many shelves in the cellar, and exited back up the stairs. Frisk deflated, and found they could breathe again.

For a moment they remained still, the spider unfolding a thread behind it as its body settled back onto the floor, and crawled away. The cold air around them seeped through the torn jumper, causing a shiver; Frisk scowled as they looked back down at the tears, how dare their ‘mother’ damage such a prized possession. The voice in their head wouldn’t let up either, they wished it would stop.  
“ _What atrocity are you wearing? Anyone would think you were a common gutter rat, a boy!”_  
But I like these clothes, they make me feel safe.  
“ _Do you realise what you stand for girl? You are a legacy, a refined bloodline of royalty, worthy of respect. If you want to be treated as such, you must be as we want you.”_  
I’m not a girl…I don’t fit.  
“ _What nonsense do you speak? You would do well to hold your tongue! Sit still and do as you’re told.”_  
No! This isn’t me, this isn’t right. I won’t wear the dresses or the stockings, you can’t make me! You can’t…  
“ _Very well. I will not take such an attitude from any daughter of mine. I’m getting your father.”_  
  
There was a sudden violent tearing sensation in Frisk’s throat, and they clutched at their neck as they felt the bite of something metallic cutting into their skin. Pulling their hands back, they let out a wavering gasp as they caught sight of the crimson stain on their fingers, sticky and sharp smelling. A prickling sensation came over them as they felt the warm fluid dribble down their front, dying their clothes, and causing them to slip in the puddle on the floor as they stumbled to their feet. The bitter taste of iron filled their mouth, starting from the back of their throat, and pooling inside until they were retching to clear their airway. Collapsing to the floor, they wrapped both hands around their neck in an effort to staunch the bleeding, screaming silently, begging for someone to hear them. _“Whether you like it or not, you will be perfect. I will make you perfect. Now, stay silent.”_ There was that word again, perfect. Perfection, the product of careful breeding, the soul of a magician born child. Frisk never wanted this, never wanted to come back here. _“My perfect summer child.”_ Why did they come back here?

The haze cleared, and Frisk blinked as they stared up at the grey brick wall of the alley. The sky was clear, and they could hear the footsteps and general murmur of people outside. It…was alright. They were safe, secure, alone. But they didn’t feel safe, they hadn’t in years. Reaching up to their throat, they felt around the scar, simple and neat, but obvious, spanning about a third of their neck. There were a few cuts and bruises around the impact, where Frisk assumed correctly that they had been clawing their skin while trapped in the flashback. They let out a tiny sigh, one of the only audible sounds they could still make, and pulled their legs up to their chest for comfort. They closed their eyes and focussed on the sounds around them, hunting in vain for any sign of threat. Through their collection of jumbled thoughts, they found themselves wondering whether they would ever feel safe again. From the way they felt at that moment, probably not.

 


End file.
